White Feather, Red Petals
by harrypanther
Summary: Remembrance Sunday story. The Great War rages and Hiccup Haddock, engineer in the Berk Munitions Company has seen his friends go off to war. But when a white feather-an accusation of cowardice-arrives in the post, the young engineer must leave the wife he adores to protect the home he loves. WWI AU. Hiccstrid
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Remembrance Sunday approaches and this year, I wanted to mark it with a story. The centenaries of various battles have been coming and going over the last couple of years and the numbers of dead when you hear them, are staggering. When I was very small, my grandmother used to tell me about her brothers, Victor and Bertie, who died in the Great War (World War I, 1914-8) and especially Bertie, who died in the Battle of the Somme. And while I could see our heroes volunteering to fight for their homes, it was a very dangerous and not everyone came home...**

 **Imagine Berk is somewhere in middle England in 1914…**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon. Rights remain with Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks.**

…

 **ONE:**

The posters had gone up weeks earlier and Snotlout and the twins had been among the first in the small town of Berk to sign up for the Expeditionary Force to France. Spirits had been high and Snotlout had been brash and confident as he went for in fitting his khakis.

"We'll be home by Christmas," he had assured his cousin cheerfully as they stood together for the photograph for the family. A head shorter than his lanky cousin, Snotlout's stocky body looked meant for the uniform, his ice blue eyes glittering with eagerness to do his bit and beat the enemy. Even the fact that Ruffnut had somehow persuaded the recruiter than she was a guy so she could accompany her brother to war hadn't raised any alarm. The sense of confidence and optimism was intoxicating. All the propaganda was unanimous: the enemy would be dealt with easily and then everyone would be home so that life could continue as it always had.

"Shame you can't come with us, Hicc," Tuffnut said amiably. The male twin was lanky and strong, his blonde hair cut to the collar and eyes filed with amusement at his sister suffering the same fate. She looked eerily like him and her determination not to be separated from him had meant she had sacrificed her traditional braids without a murmur.

"I asked-but Spitelout insisted I stay-as the senior engineer for Berk Munitions and Ordnance," Hiccup admitted. He was tall, lean and slightly awkward, with his messy auburn hair framing his sharp-jawed face and expressive emerald eyes. His few faded freckles marked his pale skin and he always managed to look slightly rumpled. "I wish I was going with you guys. It-it won't be the same here without you." Snotlout clapped him on the shoulder so hard he almost fell over.

"Well, we need the best guns and ammunition if we're to finish them off," he said without rancour. "You're as important as we are. I mean, we can't throw rocks at the enemy, can we?" Hiccup shrugged.

"I guess not," he sighed. "I'm gonna miss you guys. Things will just be so quiet around here without you." Predictably, Snotlout burst out laughing and clapped his cousin hard on his shoulder, almost knocking him sideways again.

"Yeah-they won't know what's hit 'em!" he sniggered as the friends laughed and joked and the new recruits showed off their new uniforms. And there in the sunny September day, Hiccup looked at his friends and felt a weird and eerie sense of dislocation, wondering when they would be together again. So he invited them all round to dinner that evening and made sure he warned Astrid to expect guests.

In their beautiful two bedroom house at the edge of town, they welcomed their friends around the heavy oak dining table, Astrid, Hiccup's childhood sweetheart and only love, was in charge, her golden hair swept up into a functional and fashionable braided bun, wisps framing her beautiful face. Her azure eyes sparkled as she carried the bird to the table, her brisk manner very Astrid. Hiccup was an engineer, a creative and brilliant young man who could prevaricate forever but who would do anything for anyone while Astrid was brisk, efficient and practical. She loved Hiccup with all her heart and he had softened her aggressive and angry personality while she had given him confidence in his own abilities. And while she wasn't the best cook, her roast chicken dinner was very acceptable. Hiccup carved and his friends-Snotlout, the twins, Fishlegs Ingerman, Heather Bazerk and Dagur Bazerk-sat round the table.

"To our friends," Astrid said, raising her glass and the others all sipped their ale and murmured the toast. Fishlegs-a husky young man with short blonde hair who taught in the local grammar school-sighed.

"I wish I could go with you but at the moment, I'm in a reserved occupation," he admitted. Heather-a raven-haired young woman with green eyes who was his paramour as well as the school nurse-drifted her hand to gently rest on his.

"I, for one, an grateful," she admitted. "So many are going-and it should all be over by Christmas-so I'm happier that you will be safe here."

"So am I," Dagur added cheerfully. He was her older brother, buff and brave and a little wild but devoted to his sister and his friends. His carrot-red hair was cut short though his green eyes matched hers and his face was marked with three pale scars over his left eye-from a childhood argument with a wolf while on holiday in Norway. "Especially since I joined up today." All heads snapped round and Heather's gasp was loud in the room.

"What?" Astrid asked, her eyes flicking to look at her friend. Heather's eyes were swimming with tears.

"Well, I couldn't have Snoteye here taking all the glory when we kick the enemy out of France," he said cheerfully. "And the Berkian Regiment could do with another Viking warrior." Hiccup swallowed and met Astrid's blue eyes. She was shocked but sanguine and nodded for him to speak.

"Well, we'll all sleep safer knowing all of you are out there, protecting us," he said and raised his glass. "To our heroes." Heather buried her head in Fishlegs's shoulder as Dagur sighed and walked to her side, crouching down and lifting her chin with a gentle finger.

"It's okay, sis," he reassured her "You know me-I'm always fighting anyway-so this should be a breeze. The twins are gamekeepers so they are excellent shots. And Snotlegs has been trained to fight and shoot from when he was a little boy by his Uncle. He always wanted to join the army anyway so this came at the perfect time for him!" Heather nodded and swiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

"I know," she admitted, swallowing against any more tears. Dagur was her only relative, for her father had died in the Boer Wars and her mother had perished shortly after. Hiccup's father, General Stoick Haddock, a hero of the Colonial Wars, had immediately taken them in and he had raised them as siblings to his only child. "But you're so reckless, Dagur." He grinned.

"You know me, sis," he smiled. "I always come back. Stoick made sure we all knew how to shoot like demons, fight hand to hand and were fit as Helheim."

"And he'll be there as well," Hiccup added. "I know he'll keep an eye on you all." Heather nodded.

"At least you are here," she said in a relieved voice. "As long as you and Fish are here, I know I'm not alone." Astrid rose and took her hands.

"I'm here as well," she reminded her best friend. "You don't ever need to worry."

"Yeah," Tuff confirmed. "The enemy won't stand a chance!"

oOo

Hiccup, Astrid, Heather and Fishlegs were all on the platform with the other families as the train carrying the recruits was almost ready to leave. Hiccup had hugged his cousin and friends and then stepped back as Heather clung to her brother, tears shining in her eyes. They had only had each other for so long that they both hated parting-a reason why Dagur had remained in Berk rather than pursuing a career in a bigger town. The twins' mother had hugged them both and Spitelout Jorgensen-Snotlout's father who was an older copy of his stocky, jet-haired son-shook his son's hand and ordered him to make him proud. Snotlout had been brash, loud and very touched. But never moreso than when Hiccup's father, the great General Stoick 'the Vast' Haddock, had come up to wish the friends good fortune.

Stoick was a huge man, well over six and a half feet high and build like a bull yak with cool grey-green eyes and an enormous flaming red beard. His massive chest was arrayed with his campaign medals and he was an imposing presence. He was accompanied as ever by his best friend-and Hiccup's godfather and mentor-Major Gordon 'Gobber' Belcher. Gobber was the semi-retired senior engineer at Berk Munitions and Ordnance, though he had handed the reins over to Hiccup the moment he had completed his degree-but there was nothing on Midgard that would have prevented accompanying his childhood friend on another adventure. The two men had travelled all over the world in the service of the Empire, fighting everyone they were asked and epitomising the spirit of derring-do...even though Gobber had returned without his left hand and right foot. But the man was irascible, irrepressible and cheerily indiscreet. His solid shape, with the belt straining round the middle, limped alongside his friend. Even his long braided blonde moustache had been trimmed for mobilisation.

"Laddie-I'm trusting yer not tae wreck meh factory!" he said to Hiccup, winking cheerily.

"I think you'll find it's my factory!" Spitelout protested irritably, giving a few last words to his son. Gobber winked.

"Ye keep telling' yerself that, Spitelout," he grinned and grasped Hiccup's shoulder. "I'm relying on yer tae keep improving. Yer a skilled mechanic and more inventive than I could ever be. Let that lass o'yours support yer and dinnae get obsessed. Yer tae much of a fishbone already!" Hiccup smiled, his hand entwined with Astrid's before he pulled away and hugged the older engineer.

"You take care of yourself, Gobber," he said genuinely. "Even though you'll be with Dad in HQ, I know you two will get to the Front as much as you can and you're not as young as you used to be." Gobber chuckled and hugged him tightly, the auburn haired young man's ribs creaking.

"Rub it in, why don't ye," he grumbled and smiled as he released Hiccup, who grimaced. "Astrid lass-look after this lad. We need him here!" She flashed her beautiful smile and captured his hand once more, her azure gaze sparkling with her love.

"Of course, Gobber," she said sincerely. "I will protect him against everything I can. But you know Hiccup-stubborn as a rock..."

"And I thought you were on my side," Hiccup protested gently, a smile lifting his lips.

"I am on your side, babe," she reminded him, leaning against him. "And that means stopping you overworking, making sure you eat and rest and that you keep things going here while the others go off and win this war for us." Stoick finished speaking with Mrs Thorston as Astrid finished her stern words and he smiled at her fierce voice before approaching the four friends in uniform, who saying final farewells to their friends.

"I couldn't be more proud," he said in his booming voice as the friends all scrambled to attention. "At ease, soldiers. I'm here as a friend." He nodded to the twins and shook their hands then stared at his nephew and his sort-of adopted son. "Snotlout, Dagur-I am proud and pleased that you are fighting for your friends. I cannot be by your side so you must take care, follow all orders and for the Gods' sake, duck!" Snotlout grinned.

"Of course Uncle-sir," he replied enthusiastically.

"Yes, sir," Dagur said firmly. "I'll make you proud, sir." Stoick rested his huge hands on the young men's shoulders and then turned to his son and Hiccup's wife.

"Hiccup," he said, "I'm glad you aren't coming, son. Not that I doubt your courage-because you are a brave and determined young man-but because you create. You don't destroy. You've never killed anything in your life. And I hope and pray you don't have to." The young auburn haired man smiled, tilting his brown trilby hat backwards and staring up into his father's eyes.

"Thanks, Dad-though maybe I need to remind you that I work in a Munitions and Ordnance Factory?" he replied, his sarcasm instinctive. "I may not personally kill people but I think up bigger and better ways for others to do it." Stoick sighed.

"Son-you are so like your mother," he said gently. "She could never kill-and she hated when I went to war, even though it was for the good of the Empire. But I knew that you were her son and I never resented it...because you have to be who you are." Hiccup flung himself into a fierce embrace, his arms wrapped around his father.

"Dad," he whispered, "be careful." Stoick squeezed him tight then lifted his eyes to stare into Astrid's bright blue gaze.

"Look after him, lass," he said gruffly. "You're his rock. Don't let him become what he isn't. He's not a man built for destruction and horror: I rely on you to protect him." She walked forward and took Hiccup's hand, pulling it to her heart.

"I promise, sir," she said clearly. The last of a military family, Astrid would have gone to war if it had been permitted-but as it was not, she would do everything she could. Fierce and protective, she would defend her husband against the horrors of the world as much as she was able and already loved him enough to put him back together if he was damaged. She had heard her father-in-law talking and neither she nor Hiccup were convinced that the war would be simple or quick but they had agreed not to say anything to their friends who had signed up. All they could do was pray they would come back safe and well.

Finally Stoick pulled away as the whistle sounded and there was a scramble for the carriages. The whistle sounded again and the steam from the engine thickened as the doors slammed. Hiccup stared up into the carriage at his father, his emerald eyes wide.

"Take care, Dad," he said clearly as Astrid rested against his side, her arm around him as he wrapped his arm around her and the General nodded.

"You too, son," he smiled and stood back as the friends all crammed into the window and waved wildly.

"Take care!" Heather yelled and Astrid added her voice. Then the carriage lurched and the chuff of the stream engine grew louder as the train slowly pulled out of Berk station. Heather and Fishlegs moved alongside and they all waved fiercely, watching the train slowly recede and all the way until it vanished out of sight round the bend in the tracks. Fishlegs grasped Heather's hand and squeezed.

"Now it's in the hands of the Gods," he sighed.

oOo

News from France was slow and as none of their friends were good at writing letters, the friends relied on reports in the papers of how the war was going. Time passed and the weather deteriorated but little progress seemed to have been made. Stoick wrote a few times to Hiccup and he devoured every letter eagerly, learning his friends were well but that fighting had become bogged down with trenches dug on both sides and fighting across the disputed No Man's Land. It soon became clear that the war wouldn't be over by Christmas.

News began to trickle back that there were mounting casualties from repeated attacks against the machine guns of the enemy. When the third man from the factory had been confirmed dead, Hiccup knew that his friends were in danger and he redoubled his efforts to develop and refine the weapons they produced-though the diminishing number of men working in the factory made production harder. Spitelout was resistant but Hiccup insisted that they employ women to start to fill the gaps. The facts were very simple-more and more men were going to war and the factory would be unable to fulfil orders unless they started to take women on. And among the first was Astrid.

Honestly, Hiccup didn't have a problem with women working the same jobs that had been performed mere months earlier by men because he already knew that Astrid was as strong as he was, as determined as he was and definitely as stubborn. She was bright, grasped concepts immediately and was unafraid of hard work, of being scorned or teased. She knew her worth and railed against the constraints of society, of the inferior status that society decreed women in the early twentieth century had to accept. She knew that in the Viking times they all referred to as the lost golden age, she had equal status to a man, could vote and fight and own property and divorce a man...but now, in the England of George V, she had no vote, very little legal voice and an inferior status.

So he walked into the factory with pride as she entered on her first day at his side, wearing a serviceable floor length brown skirt, a durable white blouse and her hair braided firmly off her beautiful face. She was given her apron, gloves, cap and a short induction-and then she took her place at the assembly line. Hiccup walked up to his office and cast her a small look-just enough to see her cast him a quick smile before returning to her duties with a solemn expression. Smiling, he shed his coat, lifted his pencil and furrowed his brow as he turned back to his new design for a more efficient machine gun...

oOo

Christmas came and went and Fishlegs and Heather became betrothed as the new year of 1915 dawned. News was scanty from the Western Front though all their friends wrote home for the holidays-even though Tuff's letter consisted of the words 'Told you!' Snotlout's letter boasted how well he had done in the soccer game that had broken out spontaneously in No Man's Land on Christmas Day while Dagur's had asked after Heather and told Fishlegs not to hurt his sister and that he expected to return to find his sister married and settled.

Hiccup was working harder than ever-long hours, creating and prototyping new weapons and better ammunition that could save lives and shorten the war. He grew thin and exhausted and Astrid had to work harder than ever to support him, wrapping him in her own unique brand of protective love. So she worked hard with Heather and they turned the neat garden into a vegetable plot and she took to keeping chickens to ensure they had plentiful eggs and fresh produce to feed him up. She made sure he had a warm fire to sleep by. And she loved him with her fierce passion, ensuring he knew he was valued and hers.

The news of deaths continued, the number of women in the town wearing the black of mourning slowly increasing. The seasons slowly cycled and more women worked in the factory, replacing men who volunteered or who were called up. Astrid remained grateful the Hiccup's status as a scientist and engineer protected him because she couldn't bear to think of him in the trenches on the Western Front, being shelled or wading through miles of mud...or being blown to pieces.

It was early summer and the weather was warming when Heather and Fishlegs came to dinner. Astrid had slaughtered one of the chickens-an especially fat one named Esmerelda-and the friends were sitting round the same sturdy table that the entire gang had sat around before the others went to war. Before they ate, they all said prayers for their friends and family in France before Astrid served up an excellent roast with roasted potatoes, greens and bread sauce. They had finally finished eating and were resting before the apple pie when Fishlegs cleared his throat.

"Heather and I are getting married in three weeks," he said as Astrid and Hiccup stared.

"I...why...congratulations..." Hiccup gaped and then he pulled himself together past the shock and smiled. "Congratulations, Fish, Heather..." The girl gave a shy smile.

"I-I was hoping you would walk me down the aisle, Hiccup," she asked him shyly. Heather was a strong woman but it was a big ask...thought not that large, since Hiccup was her de facto brother and the only male 'relative' available with her brother and foster father in France and her real father dead. "And Astrid...if you would be my Maid of Honour...?" The blonde woman caught her best friend's hands and she smiled.

"It would be my pleasure-and I would have been hurt if you had asked anyone else," she admitted.

"Um...same here," Hiccup added, getting up and kissing Heather on the cheek.

"And then you need to move onto best man duties," Fishlegs asked him and the auburn-haired man gave a grin.

"Wow," he managed. "Double duties...but I would be honoured, Fish. I mean-you're my best friend and I wouldn't want you to get married without me being there...though..." He looked up, his green eyes suddenly serious. "Why now? Why such a hurry?"

There was an awkward pause and Hiccup felt Astrid's hand grip his tight under the table. It was the question she had been an ace from asking but she knew he was better-because Fishlegs was hiding something. They all knew the husky man well enough to know there was something worrying him-for he was a dreadful liar and couldn't dissemble to save his life.

"I just can't do it any more," Fishlegs said in a heavy voice. "The eyes, watching me as I walk through town or the voices whispering in church or in the street. I mean, I am the youngest master in the school by over forty years! All the younger masters have already gone to war and even a few of the final year boys have signed up and shipped out. And they look at me...like I'm a coward. They're asking why I'm not doing my bit..."

"But you are doing your bit," Astrid said urgently. "You are in a reserved profession because we need a next generation after the war is won-and they need to be educated."

"There are older, retired masters who have come back to do that," Fishlegs said softly. "So I will do my bit. I've signed up-and I'll ship out two days after the wedding."

"I support him," Heather said, her voice thick with emotion and her eyes saying very much that she _wasn't_ alright with it. "But my brother and the others will look after him so I know he'll be safe..."

 _Twelve men have died from the Berkian Regiment this year,_ Hiccup thought but forced himself to nod.

"Snotlout will love another person to brag to," Astrid smiled, her forced cheerfulness fooling no-one. Then she rose. "Goodness-the apple pie. This is turning into a celebration. I'll fetch some cream and a little sherry to toast the happy news!" Her hand trailed over Hiccup's shoulder as she walked past, the slight squeeze reminding him to keep the other couple talking because she could see how upset Heather was.

"So you've got your suit and gown already organised?" Hiccup asked, seeing Heather force a smile on her face. She nodded.

"It was my mother's wedding dress-though I've altered it a bit," she admitted. "Cream lace and satin and a cream silk veil." Fishlegs held her hand and she leaned into his shoulder.

"She will look perfect," he said lovingly. "And though I know she doesn't want me to go, we both know that I have to. She can see me, getting more and more frustrated and ashamed as everyone judges me for not being on the Western Front. And though I really want to be with her, I can't be the man she wants without leaving her."

"And while that actually makes no sense if you listen to the words, I know what you mean," Hiccup sighed and sipped his water as Astrid arrived back in the Dining Room. Her eyes widened and he heard her gasp. In a second, he was on his feet, grasping the tray before it fell from her nerveless hands. He swiftly laid it on the table and pulled her close to him, staring into her wide and scared azure eyes. "Milady, I know what he's going through because I am too," he whispered. "They look at me like I am the lowest of the low. I hear whispers of 'coward' and the judgement that I'm not 'doing my bit'. And I know that I am...because I make sure our boys have weapons and bullets...but people don't see that."

"I don't want you to go," she mouthed. "You're no killer, Hiccup. And going there, seeing all that death and destruction would...break you..." He leaned close and pressed a very gentle kiss on her lips.

"I know," he sighed. "But if the war drags on, everyone will be conscripted-even engineers. And then there will be no choice." His gently stroked her cheek and kissed her again. "Fish will be with our friends and I will make sure we have the best weapons for them." He smiled. "Now that pie looks perfect. Let's celebrate our friends' upcoming wedding. And who knows? Maybe the war will be over soon."

oOo

The wedding was a small affair in the Temple of Odin on the Main Plaza. Hiccup kept his word and both gave Heather away and acted as Best Man to Fishlegs. A few teachers from the Grammar School and Fishlegs's parents were in attendance but otherwise, it was a depressingly small congregation. The pranks of the twins and even Snotlout's self-importance were missed and thoughts were more and more with those who were already fighting. Fishlegs attended in his new khaki uniform and Heather's eyes widened as she saw him waiting-and then she smiled in pride. It wasn't her wish but she had given her blessing and she was proud he would stand by her brother and friends in the trenches. Everyone pitched in with the cakes and sandwiches for the wedding meal and Fishlegs's parents had welcomed their new daughter warmly and promised to look after her while their son was fighting in the war.

After they had seen Fishlegs off with the few recruits on the train heading for the boat to France, Heather quit working at the school and moved to work in the factory with Astrid. Hiccup saw her struggle but her natural determination and intelligence meant she quickly picked up the intricacies of her new role and settled in. She spent many evenings with Hiccup and Astrid or with her in-laws and the trio all took to walking their dogs together. Hiccup's black labrador Toothless, Astrid's golden retriever Stormfly and Heather's steel-grey Weimaraner Windshear were already friends so walking them was no chore and allowed the three to cling to a small semblance of normality amid increasing shortages and a dull air of desperation.

And then the new offensive began and reports of casualties began to trickle back to Berk. But Hiccup was very sad when he received a letter from his father, who still wrote occasionally, though areas were blanked out by the army censors. But this letter was delivered intact and he sat at the breakfast table with Astrid holding his hand, reading the words and blinking hard.

 _July 11th 1916_

 _My Dear Son,_

 _I write to you with a heavy heart. There is no easy way to put this, but I have sad news for you._

 _On the first day of the offensive, your friend Tuffnut Thorston was killed. It was I believe instantaneous-a shell impact as he and his squad went over the top and advanced towards the enemy lines. His body was never found but there was no doubt that he was killed, even though he has been declared Missing in Action._

 _His 'brother' 'Rafe'-who we both know was in fact his twin sister, Ruffnut-never recovered from the loss. She never spoke again after his death despite the best efforts of Snotlout, Dagur and Fishlegs to try to support and comfort her. But I have seen it before and I wasn't at all surprised when two nights after he was lost, she walked out into No Man's Land and never returned. She was lost without him and I have to believe that she is happier now she is reunited with him._

 _I have written personally to their parents. Odin only knows how their poor mother will react._

 _Please tell Astrid and Heather. Snotlout, Dagur and Fishlegs are well and I will watch over them, as much as I can in this Hel. I am glad you are away from this, son. Men are beginning to break at the sight and the constant alarms and barrages. The sights of mud, explosions, friends blown apart or gassed are taking their toll. People are calling it 'Shell Shock' but General Haig and the Military Commanders officially do not recognise it._

 _Fools._

 _All men have their breaking points and I pray this madness is over before we all pass ours._

 _You have my love and thoughts always,_

 _Dad._

Hiccup looked up, tears falling unashamedly from his eyes as Astrid leaned against him, wrapping her arms protective around his shoulders.

"We've lost the twins," he said tonelessly. "Who's next?"


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO.**

Autumn came and went and the list of the dead lengthened dismally. Every week in church or Temple, the names of the fallen were listed and added to the plaques that had been hung at the back of the congregation to remind the people of Berk of those who had died for their freedom.

Hiccup had been unable to talk after the ceremony where the twins had been honoured and he had taken Toothless for a long walk that had lasted until dusk. Astrid was worried and had waited by the door, almost on the brink of lighting a lantern and going to look for him with Stormfly when his tall shape appeared from the twilight, the faithful shape of Toothless trotting alongside him.

"Hiccup!" she called and flung herself forward, her arms wrapping around his lean shape and she felt him wrap her in an urgent hug, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

"Sorry, Milady," he mumbled. "Just needed to clear my head..." Toothless whined and the young man reached down and tousled the pricked ears. "Yeah-it was a long walk, bud," he added.

"Babe-it's okay," she admitted. "We all feel it. I-I can't believe they won't be coming back, that they won't burst through the door and yell 'Surprise!' and start stealing the biscuits. It-it doesn't seem real."

"But it is," Hiccup murmured hollowly. "Their Mom is going downhill. She's hardly going out and Mrs Ingerman says that she's almost stopped eating." Astrid nodded.

"Heather and I will go and see her," she said determinedly. "Though they were her only children and with her husband away in France as well, I can see how desperate she must be feeling..." Hiccup's emerald eyes gazed lovingly into her determined face and he kissed her passionately.

"I am the luckiest man in Midgard to have you," he admitted. "Now let's go inside so I can warm up and I can show you how grateful I am." She grinned.

"Hush you," she smiled. "People will talk." But the smile slid from his face as they walked back and his expression was pensive as they opened the door to their beautiful home.

 _They already do, he thought grimly. And they call me a coward..._

oOo

Mrs Thorston died over the cold winter, despite Astrid and Heather's best efforts to care for the bereaved woman and Astrid had confided in her husband that the older woman had just given up with the loss of her children. The news, a week after the funeral, that Mr Thorston had died in a gas attack completed the tragedy and the whole community mourned the loss of an entire family to the conflict, so far away.

In the New Year, the letters began to arrive, pushed through the door and addressed to Hiccup in carefully printed block capitol. Each contained a single white feather-the symbol of cowardice.

The first one had him ashen and shaking, staring at the perfect white feather with wide, emerald eyes and then bowing his head. Astrid had scuttled into the Dining Room when he hadn't replied to her query about what he wanted for breakfast and had found him shocked. Furious, she snatched the feather and threw it onto the little fire in the grate, taking his hands and forcing him to look into her eyes.

"You are not a coward," she ground out, through her teeth, her eyes flashing with rage. "You are brave and stubborn and clever and inventive and needed here in the factory."

"But I'm about the only able-bodied man here now," he reminded him in a shamed voice. "I-I can't excuse myself any more. We have enough efficient products and every able bodied man has gone from he factory. The production line is almost all women now-except one-legged Sven and old Lars. They don't need me any more..."

"I need you," she told him fiercely. "I need you to look at me, to listen to me and not listen to people who have no clue what you do. What difference will you make, Hiccup? Answer me that! You are needed here!" Then she leaned up and kissed him. "Stay with me, my husband. Love me. Remind me that there is some hope...because this war just keeping going on and on...and there seems no end."

He didn't show her the other letters, opening each one and then carefully burning the envelopes and feathers. But the familiar stench of burning feathers told his wife that another silent accusation of cowardice had been made and she saw each one gnaw away at her beloved Hiccup. He had wanted to go and a large part of him was already ashamed that he was needed at home: silently, she cursed the fools who were tormenting her husband for doing his duty by staying in Berk.

But she couldn't stay silent when the talk began again in the butchers. Olaf the Generous was the owner, a man who son, Olaf junior, was on the Front Lines, though he had just been injured. The woman, in their elegant hats and long skirts were crowding round the counter, offering their sympathies as Astrid entered-and a frosty silence fell over the shop. Azure eyes narrowing in anger, she walked forward without hesitation.

"Have you got any brisket, Olaf?' she asked politely and the man nodded.

"The nerve of some people," Mrs Anderson commented and Astrid spun to face her like a striking snake, her face pale with rage.

"What did you say?" she demanded.

"You heard," the older woman sneered. "Having the nerve to show your face when your husband is a coward..."

Astrid slapped her so hard she stumbled back a pace, the sound echoing loudly round the scrubbed shop.

"How dare you," the blonde young woman ground through her teeth. "Hiccup wanted to sign up back when War was declared...but he is in a reserved occupation. He's an engineer in the Munitions Factory."

"So?" Mrs Larson replied sarcastically. "All the other men have gone."

"Men who work on the production line, whose jobs can be performed by woman," Astrid snapped. "I know-I work there. But Hiccup is the engineer and designer. He went to University and it would take years for someone else to learn his job or have a quarter of the skill or imagination he has. He is needed here."

"We already have enough weapons," Mrs Anderson sneered. "He's just hiding."

"Coward," Mrs Larson condemned him and Astrid slapped her as well, then grabbed her brisket in its brown paper, handed over the money and walked out of the ship, her cheeks red with embarrassment and rage. Her palms itched to attack the women, to ram the words down their throats and make them understand that Hiccup was no coward...but she knew they wouldn't listen.

There was a kind of hysteria tripping the town that demanded everyone be sacrificed to the guns, no matter age or marital status or suitability to fight-and no one would listen to the fact that her husband was exempted service because of his contribution to keeping the munitions flowing.

And worse, she knew that Hiccup believed it as well. The shame was starting to eat at him, making him more and more withdrawn and though she did everything she could, she knew that she was slowly losing him.

oOo

The boy from the telegraph office knocked and entered Hiccup's office just as he was stretching his cramped neck from hours correcting blueprints and sketching new designs-and he was instantly on alert, rising and almost snatching the little folded paper from the boy's hands-though he tipped him a farthing for his speed in running the message to the factory. With trembling hands, he unfolded the message and read it twice, then closed his eyes and covered his face with his hand.

Steeling himself, he walked down the stairs to Spitelout's office, speaking to the manager of the factory and Spitelout instantly agreed with his plan. The older man, gently patting Hiccup's shoulder, walked quietly out, before asking his secretary to send Astrid and Heather into the office.

The two young woman walked in promptly, their eyes widening as they saw Hiccup perched in the edge of the desk, his face sombre. Astrid closed the door and ushered the frozen Heather to the chairs, forcing her to sit and taking the seat at her side, her hand capturing Heather's. Trembling, the raven-haired woman stared into her foster brother's sad eyes and braced herself.

"Who is it?" she asked. Hiccup swallowed and looked to Astrid for support. She nodded, sympathy welling in her eyes.

"Dagur was killed in action last night," he said.

"NO!" the girl erupted, rising and pulling away from Astrid. "NO! He can't be dead! He promised to come back..." Hiccup caught her hands and stared into her eyes, reading desperate denial.

"I'm so sorry, Heather," he said wretchedly. "It was an attack on their trench. Dagur detected it and led the counter-attack, saving Fishlegs and Snotlout in the process. He killed twenty enemy soldiers-but he was shot during the fight. He died of his wounds on the way to the hospital tent. He was a hero..."

"No..." she wailed, collapsing back in her seat.

"I'm so sorry," he tried but she glared at him, her eyes suddenly flashing with rage, even as tears streamed down her face.

"Don't say that!" she snarled. "If you were sorry, you would go out there and protect my husband. He's all alone there with only Snotlout left! If you were sorry, you wouldn't hide here like a coward instead of fighting for your country. If you were sorry, you would...you would be as devastated as I am..."

"Heather, I..."

"Astrid-can you take me home, please?" she said angrily. "I don't want to be here any more!"

Looking up helplessly, Astrid saw Hiccup nod, his face colourless and eyes dark with pain. He looked broken, his shoulders slumped and head down. Heather didn't even look back at him as she marched out, her head up and eyes flashing with anger. And though Astrid knew it was just a reaction to the grief, a way of transferring her anger at her brother's loss, the fact Heather had landed such a devastating blow on her husband made her truly worry-because she already knew Hiccup was on the brink.

He was sitting by the fire when she finally got home from comforting Heather. Once home, Heather had broken, sobbing and incoherent and Astrid had needed to send for the doctor to administer a sedative. Finally, Heather had slept-and only then could Astrid turn to her husband, who was as hurt and devastated by the loss of his 'brother'. Silently, she had slid onto the couch by him and folded her feet up under her body, wrapping her arms around his body. Slowly, he had responded, leaning against her and turning his red-rimmed eyes to her. The emerald was dull, the spark of life muted in his grief.

"She's right," he murmured.

"No, she's not," Astrid said. "She's hurt and devastated and angry at the war and whoever killed him. You were just the closest person she could lash out at."

"But she's right," he murmured. "I should have been there..."

"And what?" she asked him sharply. "Gotten killed? Hiccup-you aren't a soldier. You aren't a fighter. You could have been killed-and then we would both have been mourning."

"But it would be better than feeling like this," he told her sadly. "Like I am betraying them by being safe here. Like I am betraying Berk by not fighting for it. Like I am betraying Dad by being the coward they all call me."

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock-you are not a coward!" Astrid snapped and stared at him. "You are a wonderful, brave, inventive man who I love. Dagur knew the risks-and he wanted to go. He died protecting his brother-in-law and his friend...no matter how many times he deliberately got Snotlout's name wrong..." Slowly, there was just the hint of a smile on his lips.

"He used to tell me he only did it because it was hilarious to watch Snotlout gape like a cod when he found a new alternative to 'Snotlout' to use..." She snuggled into him and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"My love, Dagur saved his friends and knew what he was doing," she murmured. "He was a hero. Remember him as that." He kissed her and then buried his face in her shoulder.

"I don't know how much more I can deal with," he sighed. She stared into his desolate eyes.

"You don't have to deal with it-because you have me," she reassured him. "We'll get through this together."

oOo

Spitelout announced that Snotlout was wounded to the whole factory and Hiccup and Astrid offered their heartfelt condolences. Heather had apologised for her words once she had woken the next morning but the damage had been done and though Hiccup said he hadn't paid any attention, Astrid knew her friend had cut him to the bone. The news that another of their friends had been hurt just compounded his feelings of guilt and inadequacy. Especially when he received the letter from his father.

 _April 8th 1917._

 _My dear Son,_

 _I am writing to you because I cannot write to Spitelout in this matter-but you need to know._

 _Snotlout has been injured...but I have a strong suspicion that the gunshot wound he has was self-inflicted. There is a strong suspicion-which Fishlegs has confirmed-that your cousin is struggling. The loss of his close friends the twins and then Dagur, who died saving him and Fishlegs, seem to have shattered his confidence. He is going quiet, having nightmares and seeking ways out of the front lines._

 _He has shell shock._

 _Fishlegs confirmed that he was strolling down the far end of the trench and no one was around. There was a shot and Snotlout claimed a sniper or enemy soldier shot him in the leg. He was taken to the hospital and treated but he will be off duty for some months._

 _But when I went to see him, I saw what I have in many other soldiers-that broken, dull look in the eye of a man who has seen to much death and destruction. He asked whether there were any positions at HQ and if I could put a good word in for him. And I know that he won't be able to go back to the front lines. He will be sent, of course, and then he will either break or refuse to go over the top-and then he will be court martialed and executed by firing squad._

 _I cannot let that happen._

 _I have asked Doctor Gothi to see him. She is a wonder for eighty and I know she will insist he is discharged on medical grounds for his own protection._

 _Please do not tell Snotlout that you know-or Spitelout anything about this matter. I wish to protect him. As a wounded veteran, Snotlout can retain his honour and maybe begin to regain his health and confidence as he gets away from the horrors of the trenches. Please be kind to him when he gets home and ask your wife not to punch him as she would normally do: I feel he would not cope with that just now. Maybe one day._

 _I remain your loving and proud_

 _Dad._

Hiccup handed the letter to Astrid and her azure eyes scanned the words, chewing her lip. Then she looked up and said what they both recognised.

"It's just Fishlegs left now-and he's alone there." Hiccup nodded and took her smaller hand in his larger, calloused one.

"Don't tell Heather yet," he murmured, kissing her cheek. "Let me find a way of breaking the news to her." She nodded and looked up into his careworn eyes.

"Hiccup-babe?" she asked. "After work-I have something I need to discuss with you as well." She kissed him and he smiled.

"Do you want to tell me now?" he asked, his tone distracted and she chewed her lip then shook her head.

"No-it can wait," she smiled. "Nothing important. You head off for work-because you're opening up today, while Spitelout is off comforting his wife and daughter about Snotlout." Hiccup nodded and pulled his coat on.

"I'll see you at lunch?" he asked and she smiled.

"It's a date, my love," She promised.

oOo

Hiccup had to head out for a meeting at lunchtime, so Astrid didn't see him until he came back home after work, a good hour later than she did. The stew was bubbling in the oven and she had laid the table and had a nice pot of tea brewing, waiting for him. But she noticed something different as he walked in: there was a new light in his eyes and a determination, a self-confidence she hadn't seen for a while. While the stew cooked, they sat staring at the fire and he took her hand, his eyes serious.

"We need to talk," he said calmly and she stared at him, hearing a gravity in his words.

"Yes, we do," she admitted. He sighed and shook his head.

"I've signed up," he told her straight out. "I leave at the end of the week."

"WHAT?" she exploded, staring at him in shock. "But I...we..."

"My meeting at lunchtime was the recruiting office fitting me in," he explained quietly. "I-I just can't do it any more, Astrid. The looks, the whispers, the letters, day after day, silently calling me a coward. And Heather..." Astrid was shaking her head desperately.

"No," she whispered. "Heather was wrong! She apologised! She didn't mean it..." He gave a pained smile.

"Yes, she did," he said flatly, his eyes betraying the pain he had endured, day after day for so many months. "Milady, I can't be called a coward any more. My latest designs have been submitted for patenting and then can go into production-so I am no longer needed. Spitelout will be able to manage-and we both know that Snotlout is coming back, so he can help."

"But we agreed," Astrid accused him with rising anger. "You promised me, Hiccup! I thought you were safe. I promised your father I would keep you safe!" He leaned close and rested his forehead against hers.

"But you can't, my love," he sighed. "Here, I am dying of shame and guilt. My friends are just dying, period. And Heather's only relative, her husband is alone in France. I promised I would look out for her. And the only way I can do that is to be there to protect Fishlegs!"

"But you're her relative as well..." Astrid protested, her heart shattering with grief and fear. "What if something happens to you?" He shook his head.

"It doesn't matter if Fishlegs is safe," he told her sadly. "She made that clear. I'm sorry, Astrid-but I have to do this. She's lost her parents and now her brother. I can't let her lose her husband as well..."

"So what about me?" she asked him suddenly, the anger fierce in her voice. "Don't I matter any more? My parents are also dead, my brother died when he was a child and now _my_ husband-all I have-is running off on a damned fool errand to France to get himself killed protecting someone else's husband. Just when I need him most." She rose and walked away from him. "The stew should be ready now, Hiccup. Help yourself-I'm not hungry." He rose and raced after her as he heard her footsteps speed up the steps, reaching the foot of the stairs as she hit the top.

"Astrid-I'm sorry but I have to do this..." She paused and looked back down at him, her face pale and eyes shining with grief.

"I'm pregnant, Hiccup," she told him savagely. "I've been holding off telling you until I was sure. I saw the doctor before I came in to work today. That was what I was trying to tell you earlier, what I wanted to tell you at lunch. So thank you. I guess I'll just have to manage this alone-because you've run off to salve your conscience about something that isn't true and left me when I need my husband to care for me for once."

Then she turned away and walked into their room, slamming the door with a finality he had never heard before. Shaking, he sat on the bottom step and covered his face in his hands.

"What have I done?'

oOo

Astrid was sobbing on her bed, the green satin counterpane clutched to her as she shook with grief. She had been so overjoyed at the long hoped-for news that she had wanted to make absolutely sure, especially after the two desolating miscarriages she had suffered previously. But the doctor had been very sure and satisfied as he had examined her. She was three months gone and her blood pressure and urine tests were perfect. She was safe to tell her husband but her joy and optimism had been shattered by his devastating news, the one thing she had been determined to protect him from. She knew the whispers had been hurting him more and more and she was hardly speaking to a dozen women who had made the mistake of calling Hiccup a coward.

She curled up, clutching her hands to her middle. There was just the subtlest of fullness there that her fingers could detect though nothing anyone could see yet but she had sailed through the morning nausea and fought her way through the awful tiredness that was like dragging around another person on her shoulders. Hiccup, distracted by his shame and the excessive hours he pushed himself through, hadn't noticed her struggles. She had been awaiting the return of his goofy smile and the delight sparkling in his eyes at the news he was finally to become a father. But that would never happen now, because it was ruined: he was leaving her and she had blurted out the news in a moment of anger. And now he was going to war and her child may well never know his or her father.

"I'm sorry, little one," she whispered. "I failed. I couldn't stop him doing something stupid. And now he's off the France where he'll do something crazy and get killed."

A knock sounded at the door. "Astrid?"

"Go 'way," she mumbled, curling up on the counterpane and the door opened, the creak loud in the awkward silence. She sniffed.

"I can't," Hiccup said awkwardly, sliding his tall, lean shape into the room. He had shed his coat and was there, in his brown pants, suspenders and white shirt with green bow tie. "Astrid...we need to talk..."

"Nothing to say," she said, sitting up and staring at him bitterly, her eyes swollen and nose puffy. She swiped tears off her cheeks and stared defiantly up at him. "You ruined it." He sat by her, his head bowed and elbows on his knees.

"How-how was I to know?" he asked her helplessly. She glared.

"Well, if you weren't so wrapped up in yourself, you would have noticed my breasts are tender as hell, I'm no longer drinking tea and and I've stopped eating breakfast because I feel sick in the mornings, usually until lunch," she snapped. "But instead, you feel sorry for Heather, you worry about Fishlegs and you just expect me to go on as if nothing has happened. But I can't, Hiccup. The only way I have held it together is because I know you are safe. And once you have signed up, they won't release you. So I will be alone while I'm expecting and birthing our child..." The unspoken warning was there. _Which I may not survive anyway._ He blinked.

"You should have said something," he said tonelessly.

"So should you!" she attacked.

"You would have tried to stop me, to talk me out of it," he reminded her.

"Of course I would!" she shouted. "Of course I would! Because that place is Helheim on Midgard, Hiccup. Three of our friends are dead. Thousands of others are dead. Casualties flood back. Your cousin, one of the most self-absorbed and mentally strong people I know has broken under the strain. And you want to go because Mrs Anderson and Mrs Larson and all those clucking ninnies are jealous because you are safe. Thor, I should chop your leg off myself so you couldn't go!"

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked her, his tone bitter. She sagged, her hands resting over her lower stomach.

"You know why," she said in a broken voice. "The last time was so horrible...I tried to forget about having a family. I really felt I couldn't face it...but when I started feeling the symptoms, I was scared, okay? Scared it would happen again. Scared I would bleed so much like last time. Scared I would lose the baby. Scared I would die. But as I missed the second month, I knew I had to get checked so I booked into the doctor and he was pretty sure but he wanted to confirm with a test. It came back positive yesterday."

"I could cut my own leg off," he murmured, "though I may be shot for desertion..." She inched closer to him and he slowly sat up, turning to wrap his arms around her. She leaned into him, arms winding around his lean shape and burying her head in his chest. He kissed the top of her head.

"Mutton-head," she mumbled against him, listening to his heartbeat.

"I've messed everything up," he sighed.

"Your pride is definitely bigger than your brain, babe," she mumbled against his chest. He lifted her face up and kissed her tenderly.

"Take this as my promise to you: there will always be a Hiccup and Astrid," he said gently, his hand stroking loose strands of golden hair off her damp face. "I'm coming back. But I have to try to keep Fish safe. I owe it to Dagur...my 'brother'. He gave his life to save Fish..."

"You are NOT to give yours," she told him firmly. "This little one needs his or her Dad. I want you to promise to come home." His emerald eyes widened.

"I-I can't possibly promise that..." he began and then he kissed her. "I promise," he sighed. "Somehow, some way, I will come to you. No matter what..." She managed a small smile.

"I'm holding you to that, babe," she whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

Astrid was stoic and didn't weep as the train chuffed out of the station, taking Hiccup-as so many others-away to War. The khaki suited him and he looked handsome in his uniform, his gun slung over his shoulder. He had kissed her passionately before he left, his hand gently caressing her lower stomach.

"Look after our little one," he murmured. "I will be back for you both. I love you, Milady. Never forget that."

He had waved until the train was out of sight and then Astrid silently turned to head back to work, hanging her coat and hat up and donning her apron and gloves before getting back to the production line. Heather had tried to talk to her but she had remained silent and concentrated on her tasks, more focussed than ever because the shells and munitions she was helping build would be fired to help protect her husband.

"Astrid! Please-talk to me!" Heather's plaintive words broke through her focus and she glared at the raven-haired woman, then turned away.

"You know why Hiccup is on his way to France?" she asked sharply and Heather paused then looked at her in shock.

"You're blaming me?" she managed to gasp.

"You, of all people, knew how broken he was at the accusations," Astrid snapped back. "You know how guilty he felt-even though he received a letter every six months reminding him of his reserved status and that he was needed here. But you had to lash out at him and that was what broke him. When Snotlout was wounded-and when we learned he was being invalided out-Hiccup signed up without even telling me what he was planning to do." She took a deep breath. "He had to lie about his status to be able to sign up. But he managed it because they were so desperate and he was very persuasive. So now my unborn child may well never see his father. Who else am I supposed to blame, Heather? Your anger broke him."

"I-I didn't..." she began then paused. "You're pregnant?" Astrid completed her shell and moved onto the next one.

"Yup," she said quietly.

"And you're working here? With all these chemicals?" Heather asked, appalled. "Astrid-you need to move from the production line and have a more suitable job..." Astrid screwed the end of the shell on brusquely.

"I'm fine here," she said shortly. "I need to stay here and make sure that Hiccup and the others have good quality shells to protect them." Heather grabbed her hand and forced her to look at her.

"Astrid-you need to protect the baby as well," she said quietly.

"I've worked here throughout the whole pregnancy," Astrid reminded her. Heather sighed.

"You have to change job," she insisted and hauled the resisting blonde away from the production line. "Look, no one regrets what I said more than me. I know it was horrible and mean and I could see that Hiccup was so hurt by my words but I was desperate to make someone feel as bad as I did when Dagur died..." Astrid shook her off.

"Guess what-it worked," she snapped. "So my husband-your foster brother-has gone into that Hel because you made him feel so guilty that he was here, doing his duty. So thanks. Some friend...some sister...you are!" And she pulled her gloves off, threw them down and marched to Spitelout's office. Heather stared after her-then ran after her as well.

"Astrid-I'm so sorry!" she begged, grabbing her hand. Astrid glared at her-and then her shoulders slumped slightly.

"So am I," she admitted, allowing Heather to speak to Spitelout's secretary. "Look, Hiccup and I have wanted children ever since we married-and you know how badly that's worked out for us. And now I'm pregnant and alone and all I wanted was Hiccup by my side. But that's been stolen from me..." Heather pulled her closer.

"You've still got me," she promised quietly. "Your husband has gone to look after mine, his best friend. So I will look after you. Please...let me do this, at least..." Astrid nodded and slowly, a tear slid down her cheek.

"I just want him back," she whispered as Heather wrapped her in a warm hug.

"I know," she sighed. "Now we just have to pray they will be okay-and get you a safer job."

oOo

Fishlegs barely looked up at the new recruits, writing carefully in his diary and conserving the short nub of pencil he had been nursing along. He was one of the longest-serving men in his little unit, promoted to corporal and calmly doing his duties and supporting new recruits who were often traumatised by the hellish environment in the trenches.

"Your bunk is here," one of the men said and the newcomer moved hesitantly towards the husky man, then paused.

"Fishlegs?" a soft, slightly nasal voice said and the corporal looked up-to meet a familiar pair of emerald green eyes in a pale and very anxious face. He dropped his diary and leapt to his feet, his face warming with joy and shock.

"Hiccup?" he gasped and grabbed the man's shoulders, pulling him into a warm hug. "Thor, I thought I wasn't going to see any of you again!" Then he pulled back. "But how terrible you are here..." Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"I lied to the recruiters because I couldn't take the accusations any more," he confessed. "Well-as soon as I heard Snotlout was being invalided out." Fishlegs's eyes popped wide and he stared at his friend.

"I didn't know that," he admitted. "And I don't think he does either-yet..."

"My father is still organising it," Hiccup said in a low voice, dropping his kit bag on his bunk. "But he does have shell shock-and if he's left here, he'll end up in front of a firing squad." Fishlegs sat on his bunk and Hiccup settled beside him, absently unfastening his great coat and taking off his cap.

"Yeah-it's been coming on since the twins," he said heavily, staring at his hands. "Their deaths hit us all hard-especially Ruff. I mean, she sneaked out in the middle of the night and just walked out into the floodlights. We heard shots and we knew she was gone. Snot took it really hard-because he was closest to Tuff out of all of us-except you."

"Me?" Hiccup gasped and Fish smiled.

"Strange as it may seem, he actually looks up to you-and not just because you are way taller than him," Fishlegs grinned. "He secretly wishes he was you-and all his bluster is to cover the fact he feels inadequate. I wish you could have been here to talk to him...but I was glad you were safe at home. And I'm so sorry you are here, in this place." Managing a small, self-conscious smile, Hiccup shrugged.

"Look, when Heather lost Dagur, I was worried that you were alone," he admitted. "And I don't think she could manage losing you as well..." Face lighting up, Fishlegs smiled.

"How is my fierce dragon?" he asked and Hiccup nodded.

"She's good-and Astrid is looking after her," he assured his friend. "I really really hope she will look after Astrid as well-because we're having a baby..." There was a pause and the husky corporal stared at his lean friend.

"WHAT? You're wife is expecting and you've come here?" he squealed. "Thor, are you some kind of super mutton-head?"

"I think that may be the case," Hiccup conceded. "Astrid accused me of having pride which was bigger than my brain!"

"At least," Fishlegs teased him and punched him gently in the arm. "Thor, I've missed having someone here with me from home. There are a load of new kids from the villages around Berk and they look at me like I'm some old relic..." Automatically, Hiccup's eyes scanned the little room and saw a familiar shape with scruffy black hair and grey eyes.

"Gustav?" he groaned. "Surely he is too young to join up?" Fishlegs nodded.

"He came at fifteen and pestered the Hel out of Snot," he admitted. "I had hoped it may help Snot but he was already slipping into his shell shock and couldn't respond. I've kind of taken him under my wing...well, it's just like being back at Berk Grammar. Half the kids here should still be at school instead of slogging through mud and gas and bullets. I try to keep things under control but it's difficult with gas attacks and frequent skirmishes...speaking of which, have you got your gas mask?" Hiccup nodded. "Keep it with you at all times. Keep your gun loaded and at hand. And be ready to fight for your life."

"Understood," Hiccup said, anxiety fluttering in his stomach. He had felt sick at the prospect of having to take another life, of facing a man and ending his life...especially in the realisation that if he refused to fight, he would be executed for cowardice. His father's and Astrid's words rolled around his head and he pressed his face into his hands. "And Thor help me," he added. Fishlegs patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Hiccup," he said gently. "I've got your back." And the young engineer lifted his head, fixing his wife's beautiful face in his memory.

 _I won't make you ashamed, my love._

"And I've got yours, Fish," he promised. "All the way."

oOo

Astrid was moved to the records department, documenting supplies in and product out and bored out of her mind. Heather remained on the production line, inhaling chemicals and working hard but she made sure she walked Astrid to and from work and the two became closer, bonding once more over their concern for their husbands and the progression of Astrid's pregnancy. As the year wore on and autumn approached, Heather moved in and intended watching over her friend.

"It's not necessary," Astrid grumbled, her hand resting on her aching back as she headed for the kitchen.

"Look-I'll make dinner," Heather volunteered but the blonde scowled at her, shaking her head stubbornly.

"If I don't do something, I'll go crazy," she complained, heading in and getting pans out. "Not that I'm hungry-this heartburn is horrible. But nice egg custard would ease things, I think..." Heather smirked, leaning against the door frame.

"I may still have to cook those pork chops," she commented, "because did you forget we invited Snotlout over?" There was a pause and Astrid stared at her in astonishment-and then she nodded.

"I had forgotten," she sighed. "Thumper here was kicking up a storm and my heartburn was playing up and...are you sure it's tonight?" Heather nodded.

"He got back from France finally a couple of weeks ago and he's starting work next week so you said-and I quote- ' _we ought to invite him over so he knows we understand and will be there for him'_."

"I said that?" Astrid commented suspiciously and Heather nodded. "Temporary pregnancy insanity," she muttered. "I'll lay the table if you do the egg custard..." Heather grinned and indicated to the oven, where the desired dessert was already nearly baked.

"Already done," she smirked and grabbed the apron, bustling around as busily as Astrid used to, before she was seven months pregnant. Shaking her head, she laid the table and glanced to the mantlepiece, freezing as she looked at the picture of Hiccup in his uniform, taken the day before he shipped out. Tears sprang to her eyes and she dabbed them away with a lacy handkerchief she had taken to keeping with her: pregnancy hormones were playing havoc with her already volatile moods and she found the least thing sent her into floods of tears-or a raging fury. Toothless and Stormfly bounded in and occupied the larger couch and she smiled, fondling both dogs' heads affectionately.

"At least you're staying with me," she sighed as she heard the doorbell ring. Sighing, she headed for the door, checked her hair in the little mirror and then opened the door-to reveal the shape of Snotlout, standing in his best suit with his hat in his hand, a small posy of wildflowers in his other hand. He looked pale and had lost weight, but there was an attempt at his usual self-confident grin as he greeted her.

"Hiya, Astrid," he said and leaned forward to kiss her, before he limped into the hall, his heels clicking on the tiles. "Good to be back..." She nodded and gestured to the Sitting Room as he walked past and then he frowned. His blue eyes narrowed.

"Um...are you...pregnant?" he asked and she planted her fists on her hips.

"No, Snotlout," she said sarcastically. "Food here is so plentiful that I've just really let myself go and eaten myself to the size of an elephant! Of course I'm pregnant!" His eyes widened and then a grin spread over his face.

"Congratulations," he said genuinely. "My cousin must be so proud. Where is he anyway? Is he working late?"

And then she stilled, her eyes desolate and she pushed past him, sitting abruptly on the couch. He followed her in, unsure what he had said-until she pointed at the mantlepiece-an the sepia image of the man she loved with all her heart.

"No, Snot," she said harshly, "He's in France. When he heard that Dagur was dead and you were wounded-and had Shell Shock, then we knew that Fishlegs would be left alone on the front lines. So without even talking to me, the idiot signed up...on the day when I was going to tell him he was going to be a Daddy." There was a pause and slowly, Snotlout's head dropped, his shoulders hunching and his breathing growing ragged.

"I'm sorry," he said brokenly. "I-I should have been stronger...because if I was, I would still be there and Hiccup would be here with you." He paused. "But-but I can't...you have no idea what it's like...the mud, the fear, constant alarms, gas, whistles and sirens..the enemy attacking you, bombs, bullets...and friends being blown to pieces in front of you." She stared at him in horror, imagining her husband, her beloved Hiccup, in such a terrible place. Heather stood at the doorway, her face aghast as well. "I wish...I wish I had the courage to have shot myself in the head, not just the leg..."

And then Astrid wrapped an arm around him in an awkward sideways hug. Heather took his other side and repeated the action from the other side. She gave a shuddering sigh.

"Look, Snot...it's not your fault," she said, quietly and honestly absolving him of blame. "You never caused this war, you went as soon as you could and you stuck it out as long as your could. Everyone has his breaking point. And your Dad doesn't know. Stoick arranged for you to be invalided out to protect you-because you are his nephew. And he will watch over our husbands as much as he can. We promised we would look out for you-because you are one of us. So if you need to talk or just be yourself, without the mask you have to wear around your Dad, come here. We will listen and allow you to have the space you need."

The young man looked up, tears in his blue eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I-I really don't deserve it, for all those times I hit on you..." Astrid smiled at that and she patted his shoulder kindly.

"I punched you often enough for those so we're quits," she reassured him. "Now I believe Heather is doing the pork chops while I will have some Milk of Magnesia for my heartburn. And then you can tell us about your exploits...or just what you are planning to do now you're back." Swiping his eyes dry, he rose and offered her a hand to rise and he winked.

"Thanks, Astrid," he said quietly. "I mean it. Hiccup is a lucky man. And if you need anything...call me." He managed a cocky grin. "What are family for?"

oOo

Hiccup lay back on his bunk, his hand cradling his messy auburn head and looking at the latest letter from his wife.

 _October 29th 1917_

 _My dearest Hiccup,_

 _I hope this finds you well and warm. The weather here is freezing and raining so Heather and I huddle by the fire as much as we can._

 _I am now at least twice the size of those elephants we saw at London Zoo, the summer before the War. I am certain our child is going to be some form of footballer-or possibly a rugby player, for all the kicks and punches he is managing._

 _I miss you like crazy but Snotlout has been a godsend, chopping wood and foraging for berries and fruit which I am currently craving. This child shows no signs of arriving and I am certain he will still be nestled in my belly some time around Christmas._

 _Speaking of which, Mrs Ingerman has invited Heather and I over for the festivities and I am looking forward to the day. We will be pooling our rations so we should have a jolly time. I wish you were here but comfort myself by knowing every day is a day closer to having you home in my arms. I love you._

 _Give mine and Heather's best wishes to Fishlegs._

 _You are always in my thoughts,_

 _Milady Astrid._

Smiling, he reread the letter twice and then tucked it away, before he pulled his coat and cap on, made sure he had his weapons and gas mask and went out into the trenches, taking his now accustomed place at Fishlegs' side. They peered into the misty drizzle.

"Any news from home?" Fishlegs asked him, smiling and Hiccup returned the grin. He was struggling, guilt from every fight and every man he had wounded or killed eating at him but letters from home temporarily reinvigorated his flagging spirits.

"Astrid is still pregnant," he admitted, "though the letter took a couple of weeks to get through. It's...now the eleventh? She could have delivered by now. I could be a Dad-and never know it." His friend clapped him on the shoulder.

"You'll know it," he said calmly. "In your heart, you'll know it." Emerald eyes looked thoughtful for a moment-and then he nodded.

"I hope so," he sighed. Then his head snapped up. "Do you hear that?" Suddenly all business, the men peered into the gloom, rifles trained into the light rain.

"Over there," Fishlegs said and gestured to his men. The sounds were definitely coming closer as men approached...from No Man's Land. Heart fluttering with fear, stomach twisting and nausea filling his throat, Hiccup concentrated on Astrid's beautiful face...

 _For her,_ he whispered then finalised his aim and tightened his finger on the trigger.

oOo

Astrid had gone into labour the night of the tenth and the midwife and doctor had been called as she panted and writhed in pain throughout the night. By morning, she was exhausted but the baby was close. Heather held her hand, Snotlout paced up and down, keeping the fires stocked and the doctor listened to the baby's heartbeat using his Pinard, his bushy brows dipping as his face creased with concern.

"Distress," he diagnosed and searched in his bag. "Can I have some boiling water, please? I will need the forceps."

Lying back on her pillow, Astrid's sweat-drenched face twisted in pain as another contraction wracked her slender shape and her howl of anguish as she tried to push through the pain was audible on the street. Heather grimaced as her hand was crushed but maintained her grip on her friend as the forceps were applied and the doctor nodded.

"Now push with all your might!" he ordered, beginning to pull.

Snotlout dropped to his knees, his hands pressed over his ears at the screams. His eyes were screwed shut and he was hyperventilating...and suddenly, there was silence, broken only by the faint sounds of the clock in the Plaza chiming eleven.

...and then there was a thin wail, rising above the sounds of a slap. He looked up at the stairs and suddenly, he was on his feet, racing up as the doctor emerged.

"Congratulations," he said to the jet-haired man. "It's a fine baby girl." Snotlout gaped and then shook his head.

"Um...thanks..." he managed. "But it's not mine. My cousin is the father-he's on the Western Front. But I was injured so I'm home and...I'm an Uncle!" He shook the doctor's hand enthusiastically and then approached the door, knocking and hanging back. Heather peered through and then beckoned him in.

Astrid was lying exhausted on the pillows, a wriggling shape swaddled in her arms. Her sweaty, exhausted face had never looked more beautiful as she looked down with love at her daughter and Snotlout felt curiously self-conscious, for this was Hiccup's place not his. But Astrid looked up, her azure eyes dark with exhaustion and with love of her daughter and she smiled, moving the bundle to show him. A rumpled, pink face with huge blue eyes and a tuft of definitely auburn hair looked myopically up at him, blinking at the light.

"Snotlout, meet Valerie Rachel Haddock," she smiled.

"Valerie for Aunt Val," the young man realised. "And Rachel..."

"...for Ruff," she confirmed, smiling down on the child."She was one of the bravest women I ever knew, going to war because she wouldn't be separated from her brother. And she carried it through to the end, fighting as a man." Snotlout suddenly blinked and walked to the window, peering out down towards the centre of the town.

"Hiccup should be here," he said thickly as Astrid snuggled the child to her chest.

"He's always with me." she smiled. "I just want him home."

oOo

The attack intensified and Hiccup, Fishlegs, Gustav and the rest were forced to fight hand to hand to defend their trench. Pushing aside the shame, Hiccup did his duty, killing men who were going to slaughter his comrades and protecting his friend. Sometime in the course of the battle, he felt a surge of new energy and he pushed on, leading a push that threw the enemy back.

Then a small, heavy metal shape soared into the trench and they all stared at it in horror, frozen as it landed with a squelch.

"GRENADE!"

But Hiccup was quicker, bursting into action, grabbing it and launching it way over the top towards the cowards who had tossed it in. There was less than a second and it had to still be in the air as the explosion sounded that shook the whole trench. Shrapnel raked them and Hiccup was slammed back, his head impacting against a wooden prop and then his vision blanked as he collapsed into the mud.

 **A/N: To be continued**


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR:**

Light filtered back and Hiccup opened his eyes, his head pounding and he groaned before throwing his arm across his eyes.

"Glad you're back with us, son," a familiar gruff voice said and he rocked his head to see the huge shape of his father, squeezed onto a simple metal trestle chair. Hiccup blinked his bleary emerald eyes and frowned.

"D-Dad?" he rasped, his voice hoarse. Gently, Stoick leaned forward and offered a glass of water, tenderly guiding it to his son's lips and supporting his head as he had when Hiccup was a small child. "Thanks…" Grimacing, Stoick leaned back, the chair creaking alarmingly.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked gently and Hiccup considered.

"The trench…there was an attack out of the mist," he managed. "Grenade! I threw it away…" Stoick's brows dipped and he shook his head.

"That was a very brave thing you did, son,' he admitted. "Astonishingly stupid, but very brave. It had a short trigger so could have detonated in your hand…"

"But the others would have been killed!" Hiccup noted, his voice a little stronger.

"So could you!" his father told him sharply. "What in Helheim are you doing here, Hiccup?" he demanded and the young man closed his eyes.

"I had to come," he sighed. "After Dagur was killed and Snot injured, Fishlegs was left all on his own…and Heather was desperate. I-I had to come to help him…" His father observed him closely and the younger man gave a shuddering sigh. "And I couldn't take any more accusations of cowardice. I-I just knew I was a disgrace, a stain on our proud tradition of service and honour. I mean, here you are, at your age and I was at home, able-bodied and just running the factory…"

"Son-you are a highly skilled engineer, a man whose talents are in huge demand," Stoick hissed. "You shouldn't be here…but because you signed up as a common private, I cannot just demobilise you because you are my son…"

"And I-I wouldn't expect you to," the young engineer sighed. "Is Fishlegs alright?"

"A few scratches and bruises like the rest," the General reassured him, his big face curling into a smile. "You were the worst injured-a bang on the head and a concussion." Hiccup nodded slightly and lay back, his body aching.

"So I'll be back to the front in no time," he guessed and Stoick slowly nodded.

"If I could do anything, son, I would," he murmured. "You should have spoken to me. I-I don't know what I would do if I lost my only son…" Eyes fluttering open, Hiccup reached out and grasped his hand.

"Dad-you know I have to protect Berk from the enemy," he murmured. "And Astrid…and the baby…"

"Val," Stoick murmured. "Valerie Rachel." Hiccup's eyes slammed open and he gaped as his father grinned.

"Wh-what? When? How-how…?" he gabbled, sitting up instantly and finding his vision spinning. Stoick's hand closed on his shoulder.

"While you were trying to get yourself killed in that attack, your wife gave birth to a healthy baby girl, Valerie Rachel," his father explained. "Born at 11 in the morning on November 11th. Nine pounds three and a quarter ounces."

"Ah…she takes after her grandfather then," Hiccup managed dryly.

"Was that a crack about my weight, Private?" his father growled playfully.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," Hiccup grinned back, then lunged forward and hugged his father. "I'm a Dad," he breathed, his eyes screwed shut. "Oh Thor, Astrid went through all that without me…what kind of man am I?" His father squeezed him firmly and sighed.

"An idiot," he muttered. "For an amazingly smart young man, you manage to do some remarkably stupid things, Hiccup." He released his son. "Heather and Snotlout were there for her, if it's any comfort. Heather telegraphed me to make sure that you were informed. And I will do everything I can to see if there is any possibility of leave…" But the look in his eyes told Hiccup very eloquently that even General Stoick Haddock's authority wouldn't be enough-not at this time. The war was finely balanced, every body was needed…and even one skinny, half-concussed engineer from Berk was valuable.

"I…understand, Dad. Could I ask you a favour? Could you let Astrid know that I know..and that I love her…love _them_ …both very much?" His emerald eyes were calm and his voice steady but his father understood the necessity of the gesture.

"I promise, son," he said firmly. "Now rest. There is precious little peace back in the trenches." Hiccup nodded and lay back, his eyelids fluttering.

"Fish is there," he breathed. "Promised I'd have his back." Stoick watched him drift off into sleep and then walked quietly from the room, casting worried glances back at the thin shape in the white hospital gown under the crisp sheets. Gobber was waiting outside.

"How is the lad?" he asked and the General shook his head.

"Starved, exhausted, very stressed and wounded," he said heavily. "Like half a million others-but he's my son, Gobber. Keep an eye on him. And if something happens, I want to know instantly." The two limbed Major gave a curt nod.

"Yessir," he managed sarcastically. "Though this is Hiccup we're talking about. That lad can find trouble in an empty room."

"That's not the problem: the trenches on the Frontline are the problem. And until this war is over, he's in danger."

oOo

Valerie Rachel Haddock was christened on December 8th 1917 on a cold morning with frost on the ground and a watery orange sun in the sky. Her godparents were Heather Ingerman and Simon 'Snotlout' Jorgensen and his mother, Astrid Haddock, made the promises on behalf of herself and the absent father. Valerie remained silent and watchful throughout the ceremony, only offering a faint wail when the cold water trickled over her downy auburn hair and off her wide forehead.

Astrid, wearing her best dress and suit coat and the wide grey hat that Hiccup so loved on her, made sure pictures were taken so that one could be sent to her husband in France. She, her best friend and daughter then went for luncheon with the Jorgensens and they welcomed the child into the family on behalf of the absent Stoick and Hiccup.

Christmas was a quiet affair with friends and family. The factory was only closed on the day itself but everyone made the most of the respite, though rationing was really biting. Snotlout was helping run the place and ensuring that Hiccup's designs were put into full production. Astrid had been determined to return to work as soon as possible and luckily, she had willing babysitters in Mrs Ingerman and Snotlout's mother, Asta, who was more than happy to care for the little girl. Resuming her place on the assembly line hadn't been difficult-because Astrid hated not being active and the job of a clerk was killing her. But it did mean that she had aching feet and sore legs when she returned home to care for her little daughter. But she had Heather at her side and together, the two women ran the house, looked after Valerie and worked.

Every evening, Astrid sat with her daughter in her arms and the photo of Hiccup carefully held where Val's now emerald green eyes could see. She had read that children could recognise their parents and imprinted on them so even before Snotlout had arrived after the birth, she had shown the newborn the image of her father and whispered 'Daddy.'

The winter was cold and long and Berk was hit over and over by losses, so that every time they went to worship, the roll call of the fallen extended. Astrid and Heather endured the eyes of those less fortunate, people envying them because they had not yet received the hated little brown telegrams that signalled their transition from wife to widow. Of course, no one realised that they had already lost friends, a brother and another relative invalided out-or that both their husbands slogged on the front line, enduring mud and ice and danger every day.

So Astrid kept her head held high and carried her daughter-or pushed her proudly in the perambulator, insanely grateful that the Gods had granted her the child they had so wanted and devastated that Hiccup had never set eyes on his daughter. And every day she prayed that the war would be over soon and that he would come home to her.

oOo

The winter had been horrible, the trenches turned once more into a quagmire that sucked men, horses and vehicles into oblivion. In their trench, Hiccup and Fishlegs were watching out for each other, shoulder to shoulder in every attack. There had been cheers when Hiccup returned after his injury and the men had celebrated with a brew and an extra blanket on his bed. Quietly, Hiccup had shared his good news with his squad and Fishlegs had given him such a powerful hug his bruised ribs had creaked.

"Valerie Rachel," he had murmured, his green eyes sweeping over the new father and his big face had cracked into a smile. "Hmm. Ruff would have approved. Though she would have turned your daughter into a real tomboy!" Hiccup gave a small, pained smile.

"Yeah…but she has Astrid who won't let her become a girly girl," he admitted. "And Heather will keep her in line. Oh Thor-I'm going to be utterly hen-pecked when I get home, aren't I?" Clapping him on his bony shoulder, Fishlegs had forced a smile onto his face.

"Hopefully sooner rather than later," he confirmed. _Please Thor, sooner rather than later_.

The letter that contained the little sepia image of a stern looking Astrid with the new child seated carefully on her lap had brought tears to Hiccup's eyes, the chance to see his beautiful wife once more and the little human being that they had created between them breaking his courage. He had sat on his bunk, tears sliding down his grubby face and had stared at the image for hours, fixing it in his memory. And then he had slid the picture into his pocket, closest to his heart before he found a piece of paper and penned a reply.

 _January 5th 1918_

 _My most precious Astrid,_

 _I don't have the words for what I feel right now. Shame that I was not there, grief that I missed the most important day in our life together and utter, utter joy that you are safely delivered of little Valerie. I have the picture close to my heart, where I need it most. Life here is horrible…but your news has given me courage and hope to carry on._

 _Fish is well and the boys in the squad are all happy and buoyed by your news as well._

 _I am enclosing a gift. It is not much and far too late for Christmas, but it is something I wanted you to have. Everything here is mud and ruin, the land torn up and ravaged by war…but shortly after I arrived, poppies bloomed on the bare earth. Swathes of red flowers, fighting bravely against the destruction all around to have their moment in the sun. So I picked one and pressed it for you. It is enclosed-as is a small seed head I grabbed a little later when we were over the top once more._

 _I sent these to you to remind you-and me-that even amid the most hopeless of times, there is beauty and love and hope. You and Valerie are that hope for me, that thing I must cling to in order to get through this._

 _Please plant the seeds in the garden as my promise that I will return to see them with you._

 _I love you both with all my heart_

 _Hiccup._

oOo

The fighting was fierce, attacks consistent and casualties high as the spring progressed into early summer. The weather was capricious, sun and rain in equal measures and the trenches and No Man's Land were boggier than ever. Fishlegs had made sergeant for his steady care for the squad, dealing with everything with his calm equanimity that Hiccup envied, even though a corporal's stripe marked the engineer's shoulder for his daring exploits and consistent bravery throughout his time in the trench. But inside, Hiccup knew he was breaking. His nights was shattered by nightmares-when they weren't ruptured by attacks or shelling-and exhaustion dogged his every waking moment. He knew he was jumpy, starting at any loud noise and he tended to drift when nothing was happening, his mind flying back to Berk, imagining a fine Spring day walking in the woods with the dogs or in the garden with his beautiful wife and baby daughter. And he treasured every letter like a gift from the Gods…

 _May 5th 1918_

 _My beloved Hiccup,_

 _Valerie is growing by the day and is looking more and more like your father-in shape, not in face thank the Gods. Her hair is an exact match to yours and she has the greenest eyes that remind me of you every time I stare into them. She smiles and sits and babbles and though she has managed Mama and Dada, I am certain she has no comprehension of their meaning-yet._

 _Toothless, of course, is devoted to her and constantly guards her crib. Heather is the best aunt and godmother imaginable and even Snotlout has stepped up and is supporting us all. I must confess, he is exceptionally good when it comes to digging the garden and chopping wood-though still impossible to hold a sensible conversation with. Stormfly is getting older but is still active and Heather's Windshear is having puppies! She is secretly delighted but is huffing and puffing. I hope that you are home to see them before we have to find them homes._

 _I miss you constantly and you are always in my prayers. Be safe, my love. I count the seconds until you return._

 _Yours_

 _Milady Astrid._

"It's time!"

Hiccup's eyes snapped up guiltily at Fishlegs's words and he scrambled to his feet, pulled on his tin hat, grabbed his gun and stood by his friend. It was a patrol in No Man's Land, skirting the mine field and seeking for gaps in the enemy lines. There was a rising sense of urgency because there had actually been gains recently and there was a burgeoning belief that there may, finally, be an end to this appalling war.

Hiccup's emerald eyes flicked over the trench once more and checked he had his precious photo of Astrid and Valerie tucked into his shirt and had left his diary and letters bundled up in his little tin box besides bed. Fishlegs had promised to return his possessions to his wife-as he had promised the same for his husky friend. Then he cautiously peered over the top, and his hands tightened on the wood of the ladder as he clambered out of the trench and then hunkered down with the rest, his rifle trained on the muddy space ahead, covering them as they emerged.

It was gloomy and drizzle was blowing fitfully across the land as the little patrol picked their way through the ruts and craters, edging past puddles and muddy bogs as they approached the enemy lines. Slowly hunkering down, Fishlegs and Hiccup pulled out their binoculars and scanned the enemy fortifications, looking at the dilapidated props and abandoned guns.

"It looks deserted," Fishlegs murmured, but Hiccup slapped his shoulder, for he was scanning a little further along the lines-and he could see the tops of heads, moving back and forth.

"No-there are soldiers in there, watching us," he said in a gruff voice. He lowered the binoculars and then his eyes widened, "Gustav-get down!" The younger man-still only seventeen, his wide grey eyes and scruffy jet hair exactly how Hiccup recalled him as a troublemaking young lad from Berk-shook his head.

"I can see everything so much better from up here!" he called from the ridge as Fishlegs stared at him-and then at Hiccup.

"RETREAT!" the sergeant yelled as the whistle and whine of the first shell sounded. An explosion sounded, not too far away from them. The rest of the patrol turned and began to scurry at top speed back to their lines.

"Oh Thor," Gustav muttered and scrambled down from his slippery vantage point, sliding out of control and knocking both officers to the ground. Hiccup scrambled up, grabbing Fishlegs's hand as another shell sounded. His head snapped up and he saw the shell arching up, reaching its zenith and curving down directly at them. Suddenly fired with energy, the auburn-haired man hauled his much bigger friend up and shoved him forward after the fleeing Gustav.

"RUN!" he yelled, scrambling after Fishlegs. But less than a second later, the world around him exploded and as he slammed forward, he threw Fishlegs further away from the blast, shrapnel ripping into his leg. He cried and slammed into the mud, lying still as his friend stole a glance back. And then he saw Hiccup move.

"Gustav!" the husky teacher yelled and turned back, seeing Hiccup painfully haul himself to his knees. His left leg was bleeding, shrapnel sticking out of the boot and as he raised his head, he saw his friend. He groaned.

"Fish-what are you doing?" he groaned, seeing his friend approach. He waved his arms. "Get back! You have to get the men back…" His head snapped round as the sounds of shots echoed across the mud. "GET THEM BACK!" he ordered his friend, snatching his rifle and training it back at enemy lines. "Go back to the trenches, look after them men. I can follow slowly." His emerald eyes were pleading, his voice firm. "GO!"

"I'm coming back if you don't make it," Fishlegs promised and Hiccup nodded, turning back to train his rifle on the shapes gradually coalescing out of the mist. "I've got your back."

"And I've got yours," the engineer murmured, snapping the bolt back and firing. There was a yell and the thud of a body. Reloading, he trained his rifle and fired again. Another cry and another thud.

 _These aren't people. They don't have families and loved ones and children. They don't have friends, waiting for them. They aren't sitting in the mud, wanting to go home. They are just the enemy. They aren't like us. They aren't like me._

 _I shouldn't feel guilty for shooting at them, for killing them to save my friends from the same fate._

 _But I do._

He fired again and the shouts grew more distant, the patrol pulling away. Breathing hard, he lowered his rifle and slowly turned, realising there was no chance he could walk back. The ground was a mountain range of muddy craters and ridges, difficult enough with two legs, all but impossible with one. And it was only about half a mile back to their own lines, but he might as well be travelling to the backside of the moon.

He would have to crawl.

So slinging the rifle over his back, he sank his hands in the liquid goop, trying with all his courage to forget what it must contain and began to slowly drag himself through the mire. He couldn't see the lines any more but he knew that Fishlegs and the others would have gotten back safely. He had kept his promise to Heather and to Fishlegs. He had saved his best friend…

…but there was no guarantee that he could save himself. All he could do was slog on, putting every ounce of his determination into the effort, driven on my the desperate desire to hold Astrid in his arms once more. So he dragged himself up over the rise and briefly glimpsed the fortifications and the barbed wire round the tranches, up in the distance. And a small patrol, snaking to his right. His eyes widened for they were in totally the wrong place. They were heading into the mine field.

Gritting his teeth, he unslung his rifle and used it as a crutch to push himself to his feet and then wave desperately at the unwitting patrol.

"GET AWAY FROM THERE!" he shouted, waving furiously. "MINES!" He tried to stumble forward but he overbalanced and rolled and slithered down the ridge, right to the limits of the mine field and he froze, eyes wide. The patrol was walking urgently towards him, heedless the danger.

"No-it's over there…" the corporal in charge of the patrol argued, waving a map fiercely. Hiccup looked up and shook his head, his hands raised to try to get the man to stop moving.

"No, it's all around you!" he called urgently. "My trench is over there-you're in the wrong place and…" The man was only a few yards away and still moving. He took one more step…

…and vanished, the explosion consuming him and blast slamming Hiccup and the rest of his men back. Head spinning, the stunned and wounded engineer saw one land a few feet away, the look of shock on the man's face telling the watching Hiccup that he had landed on a mine. This time the explosion threw Hiccup and all the men into the air, tumbling them into a crater and piling body on body, mud seeping around the broken soldiers.

Sounds were coming in and out, his head reverberating and entire body hurting. Hiccup was buried under bodies, pinned and almost unable to move. the mud was cloying, sucking him down and it was all he could to to keep his head above the fluid. He tried to push the mangled mess of the soldier pinning him off and only just managed to get a little room to breathe. He could feel his wrecked left leg bleeding and as he struggled to drag himself up a little, he knew there was no hope he would be saved. No one would find him until it was far too late. The wet cold was already seeping into his body and he was beginning to shiver-but he curled up, resting his free hand over his chest and the precious photograph and bowing his head.

"I'm sorry, Astrid," he whispered as he began to shiver. "I'm sorry. I'm going to break my promise. And I hope one day you will forgive me. But I just wanted to hold you in my arms, one more time. I'm sorry…"

oOo

Astrid was at home, baking when the knock sounded at the door. Valerie was asleep in her crib upstairs and as she wiped her hands down, she walked through the tiled hall to the door-to see a young boy in uniform with a small brown envelope in his hand.

Her breath froze in her throat and her hand shook as she accepted the envelope, nodding and turning away as if in a dream. The door slammed closed and she turned back to glance through the open door to the Sitting Room, glimpsing Hiccup's photo on the mantlepiece before forcing her gaze back onto the brown envelope in her hand.

MRS ASTRID HADDOCK.

With shaking hands, she ripped the paper open and unfolded the fine paper of the telegraph, staring dumbly at the words printed on the paper. It took her three tries before her stunned mind would process the scattered words and she found her legs giving way, so she sat on the bottom step and felt tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. A wail began upstairs from her room where Valerie had woken but she was unable to move, for it felt as if her heart had been torn from her body.

VERY MUCH REGRET STOP CPL HICCUP H HADDOCK MISSING IN ACTION STOP

She covered her face with her hands, the fatal missive fluttering to the floor, along with all of Astrid's hopes and dreams.

Hiccup was lost.


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE.**

Gobber looked up from the phone and his eyes widened in shock. Rising to his foot and prosthetic, he muttered an acknowledgment as he hung up and then knocked on General Stoick Haddock's door, letting himself in before he was ever invited. Cool grey-green eyes flicked up at the breach in protocol, asking a silent question.

"He's missing," he said as the General looked up before dismissing the adjutant sitting before him. He rose, his face locked with determination.

"When?"

"An hour ago," Gobber explained as the General grabbed his hat, coat and pistol. "That was Fishlegs. He called me because no one would put him through to you. He was injured in a shell explosion when he saved Fishlegs's life. He covered for them escaping because he wasn't mobile. Fish was persuading his CO to send out a small rescue party when he heard the shout of 'mine' and two explosions. The voice was Hiccup's. But he never came back. He's already listed as Missing In Action."

"Get the car," he ordered. "And put me through to his commanding officer. If they aren't searching for him when I arrive, I have the lot of them in front of a firing squad!"

oOo

Fishlegs was already out on No Man's Land when Stoick arrived, his CO-Captain Andarson-greeting the famous general in his stead.

"I really hadn't realised that Corporal Haddock was your son, sir," he said politely as Stoick looked down his large nose at the man, seeing a lightly-built man with pale blonde hair and thoughtful grey eyes.

"Aye, well he looks like his mother," the General muttered as Gobber emerged from the staff car. "Though how many Haddock families do you think there are in Berk?" The Captain flushed at the rebuke and then invited the General into the staff office. "I take it the search party is already out." Anderson nodded, automatically pouring his superior a small measure of mead.

"Sergeant Ingerman is leading," he reported briskly. "We saw a patrol from another stretch of trenches wander into the mine field and I believe Corporal Haddock tried to warn them. He may have got involved in the explosion."

"Aye, well the laddie could get in trouble in an empty room," Gobber muttered darkly, accepting a small mead gratefully. "But he tried to warn the misplaced patrol and he saved his own, ensuring they got back safely. That's our Hiccup." The Captain stared.

"Why wouldn't he say anything about his connection to you?" he protested. "I could have made sure he was put on safer duties…" But Stoick sipped his mead with a sad sigh.

"He joined up because he couldn't cope with being called a coward for not being here," he murmured. "He is a talented engineer who builds and develops weapons for Berk Munitions and Ordnance-you know the Mangler?" Anderson nodded. "One of Hiccup's," the General confirmed as the Captain started and opened his mouth to comment on how effective the device was-but Stoick cut him brusquely off. "He should never be here-but being judged for staying at home and using his skills instead of fighting on the Western Front was killing him, so he joined secretly…much to the dismay of his wife. And now his daughter, my grand-daughter Valerie." Andarson rubbed the bridge of his thin nose and shook his head. For the briefest of moments, the great General looked old and tired.

"The chances are very slim we will even find his remains," he said heavily. "Many vanish into the mud…" Stoick's eyes glinted wth anger.

"He's only a short way away from the trenches," the General growled. "He deserves a decent burial. And I will not stop until I have him back. He is my only child and he will rest with his ancestors in Berk."

"He's being cited for bravery above and beyond the call of duty," Andarson added in an embarrassed voice "He saved the patrol and his commanding officer out there."

"No," Stoick said sadly. "He saved his friend, as he promised he would. He stayed back to ensure they got to safety. We owe him to get him back and bring him home." Andarson opened his mouth to speak but there was a knock and Fishlegs entered. He saluted briskly and remained at attention until Stoick told him to stand 'at ease'.

"Report, sergeant," Andarson invited him and the husky former teacher sighed.

"We found the area where the patrol died," he said tonelessly. "There were some remains-but a stretcher party had already been through and taken the bodies back to another stretch of trenches. There was a rumour that a couple were alive but I cannot confirm that. There was no sign of anyone else…but we were in the right place." He lifted a muddy rifle and turned it over to display the initials carved carefully into the stock: HHHIII.

Quietly, Stoick grasped the weapon and pulled in to nestle in his hand.

"Hiccup," he murmured. "Son-I will find you. I will bring you home."

oOo

Astrid was sedated by Doctor Gothi, who had returned to Berk shortly after Snotlout was invalided out. She had been the family physician for the Haddocks for fifty years and there was real sympathy in her squinting gaze as she stroked the blonde hair off Astrid's tear-stained face. The tiny hunched female doctor was mute but understanding, seeing the blonde broken by grief and knowing there was nothing she could do to ease her pain except support her. Heather was caring for Valerie and Snotlout was pacing up and down, sitting then rising and pacing again.

"It should have been me," he said, sitting down and burying his head in his hands before he was up, pacing again. His limp had lessened, though it had never completely gone and Heather, who was sitting with Valerie playing at her feet, sighed. She and Astrid knew the truth but it was something they had sworn they would never raise.

"Snotlout-you did your part and you were rightly invalided out," she reminded him. "You had nothing left to give." The stocky man paused by the mantle, gazing at the image of Hiccup, smiling in his uniform and he shook his head.

"I should have given my life," he said with self-loathing. "Instead, Hiccup has given his. And he has a wife and a daughter who will never know him and…and I have nothing and no one. It should have been me."

"Snotlout! This was his choice, made in a town where anyone who wasn't on the Western Front was seen as a traitor and a coward," Heather told him smartly as the stocky man stilled and his blue eyes widened in shock. "You had no idea the pressure he and Fishlegs were under because they weren't fighting."

"And the people who were baying for them to go were people who will never understand what it's like," he said, slumping onto the couch and almost standing on Toothless's tail. "Sorry, Toothless," he added automatically. The dog gave a small whine and his big green eyes focussed on the distraught Snotlout. "And I'm sorry, too-because you won't understand. You'll wait for Hiccup to return for the rest of your life."

"And so will Astrid," Heather said softly. "He was her soul mate. And I cannot see her ever loving anyone else." She leaned forward and scooped Valerie into her arms, the child's pudgy hands immediately grasping the braid Heather was wearing over her left shoulder and stuffing the end in her mouth. She smiled but her voice as steady and determined. "And between us, we will make sure this little girl never suffers because her Daddy gave everything for his home and his wife and family. You and I, Fishlegs when he gets back, your parents and Fish's family and the General will wrap her in so much love and protection that she will never miss out on a thing because she doesn't have a Daddy. Astrid will never have to struggle because she will always have us. Friends forever."

Snotlout looked up and despite the fact his eyes were still filled with self-loathing, he nodded. Her plan gave him something to do, something positive he could contribute to his cousin's widow and his 'niece'.

"Friends forever," he said quietly. "Don't worry, Hicc-we'll look after your family."

oOo

It had taken all the General's strength of will and iron constitution not to heave as he carefully inspected every man who'd been collected from No Man's Land in his search for his son. But despite the wrecked state of some of the bodies, Stoick knew his son and none of these men were tall and lanky with auburn hair. Not one had the piercing emerald eyes of his late wife and son and it was an odd mixture of relief and disappointment that he turned away from the last shape, leaving the man to be shrouded and prepared for burial.

"He's not here," he said gruffly to the mortuary officer. "Is this everyone?" The man-a short round hairy inhabitant of Berk named Mulch-nodded, his manner respectful but cheerful.

"All but the survivors, of course," he added. The General stiffened and turned to look down on the little man.

"Survivors?" he breathed. Mulch nodded, walking to the ledger and running a grimy finger down the list.

"Aye-there were three men pulled alive out of that swamp," he revealed. "They were taken back to hospitals a long way behind the front lines. All were very badly injured, by all accounts…" Stoick grabbed his shoulders and stared into the light hazel eyes.

"Did you see them?" he demanded, his voice icy and Mulch gave a rueful shake of the head.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I only get to see them when hospitals are no longer of use," he reminded the General and slowly, Stoick's enormous hands relaxed, releasing the little man. "They may have more information for you, sir…" And dumbly, the General nodded, the faintest flicker of hope appearing in his eyes.

"Assuming they know who he is," he sighed. "There are many hospitals and hundreds of injured men flooding in. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack." The little man looked up into his tired face and smiled.

"Sir-I have no doubt you would go to the ends of Midgard to find your son if there was even the smallest sliver of a chance," he said. "Don't give up. Because if he is alive, he will need all the help he can get."

oOo

It seemed to Heather than Astrid was just going through the motions in life, her answers almost monosyllabic, her motions mechanical and without any grace. She had refused to eat and gotten thin but the only thing that sparked any interest in her dulled eyes and desolate face was her daughter. And she would sit for hours, rocking the child and talking quietly to her. And it was only when she was holding Hiccup's daughter that she would talk with a fraction the animation of the woman they knew.

Heather had to force her to don her best dress and jacket and pin her best hat to her hair to set out for Sunday Worship. Head held high, chin lifted, Astrid walked in holding Valerie in her arms, her azure gaze sliding with contempt over Mrs Larson and Mrs Anderson, who had called her Hiccup a coward. She grasped Valerie closer and walked past, ignoring their mouthed sympathies. Finally seeing people other than her friends, seeing their eyes full of pity was igniting a fire in her chest, of anger at the unfairness that she should have to sacrifice her beloved Hiccup for the stupid assumptions of others, that he had sacrificed himself to ensure that Heather didn't lose her husband. That he had left her alone.

The priest ran through the usual service and then they reached the part that Astrid had been dreading.

"And now, we read the names of those who have been lost in the last week, sacrificed their lives to preserve Berk and our home. Heroes who have taken their place in Valhalla. Private Geir Dagmar; Private Sven Rickardson and Corporal Hiccup H Haddock."

Mrs Rickardson let out a wail and began sobbing loudly and curiously, her distress made Astrid feel stronger. Tears coursed down her cheeks and she jogged Valerie on her knee, seeing the emerald eyes widen and a fat hand stretch out to rest on Astrid's tear-soaked cheek.

"Mama," she cooed and the young woman wrapped her into a gentle but heartfelt hug.

"Momma's here," she reassured her daughter. "Daddy's not coming home but Momma is here-and she is going to protect you and make sure you never know anything but love and never hear anything but the truth about your Daddy. And the truth was that your Daddy, Hiccup Haddock, was a hero." Her voice had risen and all other voices had stilled, every eye on the bereaved blonde as she spoke firmly and clearly to her daughter. "He was a man who created, who drew and built and imagined things that could make life better-and that skill made him precious to the war effort, because he designed weapons. His work saved thousands of our men's lives. But people here are stupid and evil and they called him a coward because he was here, doing what the government ordered him to. So when his adopted brother was killed, he defied his orders because he was so upset by all the lies and horrible horrible names the _evil_ people here called him and he went to war. He was meant to stay but he lied to go to war, to protect his best friend. And he died, getting him away from an attack, giving his life to allow them to escape."

Her eyes were blazing now.

"So don't ever let anyone tell you anything except your Daddy was a hero, a person none of these worms here could ever hope to be. And he should be here, loving you and raising you with me. Because you are so very loved, Valerie. But I will look after you-and so will our friends. And you will be able to do whatever you want, my love. In your lifetime, you will get the chance to work, you will be able to vote, you can go to University and travel the world and become whatever you want. And I will see you have every opportunity you want because you are owed the world." She rose. "You Daddy was a hero. _Is_ a hero. And will always be your hero-and mine."

Then she turned into the aisle and walked out past the congregation, none of whom could meet her eye. Heather and Snotlout shared a look and scrambled out after her, finding her smiling and cooing to Valerie under the warm early summer sun in the yard outside. Heather was grinning at her.

"That's the Astrid I know," she said and the blonde nodded, a small smile lifting her lips.

"At least I didn't punch anyone this time," she admitted, bouncing the little girl. "Felt like it, though."

"Me too," Heather admitted and the two shared a smile.

"What is it about you two and violence?" Snotlout protested and Astrid walked forward and hugged him.

"It's a Viking thing," she sighed and then she kissed Valerie's forehead under her little cotton cap. "And honestly, it felt so good to tell everyone off and point out that everything they assumed about Hiccup was wrong. That letter Fish sent you really helped, Heather. It let me know that, despite the fact that Hiccup is no cold-hearted killer, he did what he had to protect those he loved. And that is all I would ever have asked of him." She smiled.

"Astrid-are you…?" Heather asked and the blonde gave a genuine smile.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I am. I mean, I hate that Hiccup is gone and I am sad and I know there will be good and bad days but with you all…I can cope. because I have to. I have Hiccup's daughter here and she needs me." She smiled. "And I am a Haddock. I won't give up." Heather nodded and fell into step alongside her as they walked out onto the street.

"Nor will we," she admitted. "Now, let's go home. The joint should be cooked soon…"

oOo

Limited time and increasing demands as the final offensives pushed on restricted Stoick's search. It was very obvious very soon that no one called Hiccup Haddock had been admitted to any hospital close to or far from the front lines and there was no record of him anywhere else. Though he was listed as missing in action, his body had not been found and Stoick clung to the hope that the lack of body-despite the area where he vanished being swept-meant he was alive somewhere. Gobber's theory was that Hiccup was so injured that he hadn't given his name and so he was down as 'John Smith'. But the difficulty with that was that someone needed to visit the wards where the unknowns were being cared for in person to see if one of the poor wretches was his lost son.

So, though he was aching to find Hiccup, Stoick Haddock did his duty, involved in planning the latest offensive and ensuring that the army moved forward, driving the enemy back and edging inexorably-and finally-towards the victory that everyone had been so confident of four long years earlier. But when he could snatch the time-or when Gobber could concoct a good enough excuse-they would head out to another repurposed large house or other building that was acting as a hospital for the men suffering terrible damage, both mental and physical, as a result of the war.

It was in late August when Stoick began to lose hope, having been to so many wards where men broken in every way by conflict were lying still and catatonic or screaming and mad from the traumas they had witnessed. His enthusiasm for another trip was waning but Gobber, brash and loyal, insisted on one last attempt, to a small hospital twenty miles northwest of their location. They had driven by it twice, not realising the place was in use for wounded soldiers but this time, the General's staff car swung into the gravel drive and his powerful shape clambered out. The flaming beard was now liberally streaked with grey and more and more lines clustered around his tired eyes but his gait was powerful and he stood proud and tall as he entered the impressive house.

After a talk with the doctor and nurse in charge, they were allowed to visit the ward of 'lost' men, those who had no name and were in no state to offer one, wounded so badly in mind and body that they had lost contact with the world that had hurt them so much. And Stoick had steeled himself to walk into another long room, beds on each side inhabited by wraiths in white hospital gowns, men with vacant eyes and sunken faces who were just waiting for death to finally free them from their torment.

His leather boots squeaked as he paced slowly down the wooden floor, eyes sweeping methodically across each shape in turn until he reached the last one on the right, the only man turned away and staring at the wall. The man was so thin he was almost skeletal, his left leg terminating mid shin with a crisp bandage covering the stump. His unruly brown hair obscured his face and…

Brown? It looked more like…auburn.

Stoick walked closer, quietly pacing round the bed to glimpse the man's face. A sharp jaw, shaved by the caring nurses led up to a pallid face with a few freckles and vacant emerald eyes, staring at the wall. He was rocking, lips moving soundlessly as he murmured the same words over and over.

"I'm sorry…"

But Stoick froze, seeing the almost skeletal form of his son, wasted by illness and lost in his horrific, all-encompassing memories. His hand extended, almost touching the younger man's bare foot and then he paused.

"Son? Hiccup?"

"I'm sorry…"

Then the tiny clues coalesced. His hands were clamped around a thumbed and dog-eared picture that Stoick very gently prised from his grasp. The calm and stern face of Astrid and their newborn daughter looked back at him.

"Oh son…"

"I'm sorry…"

Quietly, Stoick gave him the picture back and his hands closed tenderly around the paper, the tension easing a fraction.

"I'm sorry, Astrid I'm sorry…"

"Is there something wrong?" a nurse asked, her calm face and starched cap reassuring. The General nodded silently. He blinked.

"This man…is my son," he said hoarsely. "Corporal Hiccup Haddock. I need to take him home…" The nurse sighed.

"He was found almost dead, buried among dead bodies and almost drowned in the mud of No Man's Land," she admitted. "He developed gangrene in his leg and it had to be amputated. But he hasn't spoken…except to the photograph. Is 'Astrid' his wife?" Stoick nodded. "No offence, General-but he isn't well enough to go home. He will need to be transferred to a sanatorium to be cared for and gradually nursed back to health." Stoick stared at his son.

"I will see to it," he promised and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his son's head. "It's over, son. You're coming home."

oOo

 _On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and eighteen, the guns fell silent._

 _The Great War was over._

oOo


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX:**

There were crowds lining the streets of Berk as the remaining soldiers of the Berkian regiment returned home, proudly wearing their uniforms as they marched through the Plaza. General Stoick Haddock led his men, accompanied by his closest friend and supporter, Major Gordon 'Gobber' Belcher, as they tramped down until they pulled to a halt in front of the Great Hall.

"RIGHT TURN!" Gobber yelled. "STAND AT….EASE!"

In a final flourish, the men pulled a perfect halt and turned to face the people of Berk. Stoick 'the Vast'-General, patriot and father-turned to look at his people. His family had helped run the town for centuries and he felt a responsibility to the people of Berk. There were men in the ranks, wounded in body and mind who would never be the men they were before and they would need taking care of-not by a country with no welfare or system to help them but by the man who had asked them to follow him into battle. Stoick would never shirk his duties.

"People of Berk, the War is over," he announced, his voice booming across the crowd. "Four years ago, we marched out of Berk, filled with optimism and not a little arrogance, imagining the enemy would just roll over. He did not-and we paid for it with our blood. Even in the last days of the war, the enemy fought furiously for every yard of ground as he retreated, still taking a horrible toll on our numbers. But we endured and in the end, peace was won."

There was silence: no cheering or clapping because everyone was weary. Weary of loss, weary of sadness, weary of bad news and shortages and men going and never returning.

"The men are home. To you who have returned, I say-savour what has been granted you. A second life after the trenches, a chance to move on in the knowledge that you will honour those who will not. Any man who needs work or who needs help should come to me and I will see that he has a place in one of my businesses and that his family are provided for." There were a few ragged cheers then. "And to those of you who are here, with no one to return, I thank you for your sacrifice, knowing that words are hollow and meaningless. So I make the same offer. I will help support you and your families in honour of those who did not come home."

He paused and blinked, his right arm rising in a stiff but heartfelt salute as he moved to 'attention' for one last time..

"DISMISSED!"

And then the ranks broke, the men running for the families they had sought out while standing listening to the speech. All around, there were the squeals and gasps of reunion, kisses and hugs and overwhelming joy and relief.

Heather was being swung around and around by Fishlegs, her face buried in her neck and her body shaking with sobs of relief. Tears were streaming down her face as they kissed, his powerful arms wrapped around the women he loved and he had left a couple of days after marrying her.

"Did you miss me?" he asked her gently and kissed her softly. She nodded.

"You big meatlug," she smiled. "I have been waiting for you for over two years. Now I finally to get to take you home and be the wife you deserve!"

"Oh thank Thor," Fishlegs sighed. "That makes it all worthwhile…"

Standing back, the wriggling shape of Valerie in her arms, Astrid watched her friend with an unreadable expression on her face. In reality, absolute jealousy was consuming her, that Heather had her husband back…at the cost of Astrid's. And though she had her daughter, she wanted her Hiccup. So she watched for a long moment, then turned away. She almost ran into Snotlout, who was standing to one side, his face carefully expressionless. She frowned.

"You okay, Snot?" Astrid asked, seeing the expression she had learned to recognise as him having a flashback to the trenches. Gently, she extended her hand and touched his shoulder. He jerked away, eyes frightened and body tensed until his vision cleared and he recognised her. Offering a wan smile by way of apology, he sighed.

"It's just…seeing them return…and so few faces I recognise," he murmured. "And I know I should be among them…if I wasn't such a coward…" She leaned close, her eyes locking on his.

"Simon Snotlout Jorgensen, listen to me," she said intensely. "For the very last time, you are _not_ a coward. You fought at the front for two years until the wounds you sustained became too much. And whether the wounds are obvious physical wounds or other, less obvious hurts, they exist. You served. You did your bit. Now forgive yourself and walk me home. I can't be here: it's too painful…"

"ASTRID!"

She flinched at the booming voice of Stoick Haddock, stopping with a resigned expression as the General walked up. His eyes were gentle as he removed his cap and then smiled at her.

"How are you, lass?' he asked her gently and her eyes filled with pain.

"Coping," she said hollowly. "It was a mistake coming-but I came for Heather because she has been there for me all the way through." His eyes expressed his sympathy and guilt.

 _Should we tell Astrid? She really deserves tae know, Stoick…_

 _We can't, Gobber. He's the shell of a human being. What can she do? She would want to take him home and that would be a burden I wouldn't wish on anyone. Let her think him lost because for now, he is. And if we can get him back, then Astrid can have her Hiccup once more._

 _I still think the lass should know. Even if she canna see him, she would know he was alive. Now…she's given up on him._

 _Please accept my judgement on this, Gobber. I am his father and I have to protect them both._

"Is this…Valerie?" His voice was soft and she suddenly realised that Stoick hadn't seen his granddaughter any more than Hiccup had seen his daughter. A proud smile lifted her lips as she moved to allow the huge man to bend forward and peer at the year old. He smiled, seeing her emerald eyes widen and the tufts of auburn hair poking out from under her knitted hat. "Thor, it's mini-Hiccup," he breathed as a chubby hand grabbed his beard and tugged. Valerie giggled.

"Oofie," she laughed and Astrid shook her head, bouncing her.

"No, it's not Toothless," she laughed. "It's GrandPoppa."

"Poppa," Valerie grinned, her two teeth visible. She grabbed at the beard once more and Stoick winced.

"She's definitely got the old Haddock grasp," he grunted. "Astrid…I will support you and Valerie as Hiccup is not here to do so. I know from Spitelout that the production of munitions will reduced drastically and though part of the factory will return to conventional engineering, Gobber will resume control since Hiccup is no longer around to do it and the female workers will no longer be required for the production line." She nodded and sighed.

"I guess things will slowly get back to normal," she admitted. "Whatever normal now is." He sighed and offered her his hand.

"Come to Dinner," he invited her. "You too, Snotlout. This is a time for family and friends and for being grateful for what we still have."

oOo

As Stoick predicted, the female workers were let go as the male workers returned to resume their jobs and part of Astrid once more resented that she went from being good enough to make the shells needed to win the war to suddenly being almost unemployable as a widow with a child. Stoick was as good as his word, supporting the woman and little girl as they got along with their lives.

Fishlegs returned to teaching at the Grammar School, apparently no different to how he was before the war, though there were moments when he stared out of the window into the blue sky and recalled his friends who hadn't returned. Snotlout helped run Berk Munitions and Engineering under the guidance of his father and assisted by Gobber, resurrecting some of Hiccup's designs and moving them forward to production. Heather, though, decided not to return to working the school: there was already a nurse in post so she applied for a post in one of the sanatoria that had sprung up to treat injured servicemen. Trained nurses were in short supply, so she was employed as soon as she could start and found herself cycling the two miles through the country lanes to the small country house that was the Merciful Freya Sanatorium.

The work was rewarding and Heather found she loved working with the injured men. Many had severe physical injuries, having lost limbs or eyes and were undergoing rehabilitation to enable them to function. But many more had severe emotional problems, raging from depression and shell shock to complete catatonia. These men required a lot of input and care, trying to make them feel human once more. The more severe cases required more extreme interventions to try to snap them out of their lethargy and Heather found she hated the idea of men being put through even more pain and distress to get them back to a semblance of who they had been before. So she looked after the men, with kindness and compassion and general brisk efficiency.

She usually worked on Ward One, looking after men with physical disabilities especially missing limbs and they responded well to the raven-haired nurse. But one cold and icy day in early March, she was pulled aside when she arrived and was asked to work on Ward Two, where there were men with mental problems as well-and being the good nurse and good team player that she was, Heather agreed. So she reported to the ward, took her instructions from Senior Staff Nurse Rose and headed for her side of the ward with a welcoming smile. And then she saw him almost immediately.

The man was sitting in a wheelchair, rake thin and bowed, his shaggy and untameable auburn hair flopping over his pale face, his hands grasping a photograph. His right foot was in a simple slipper and the left leg terminated at a bandaged stump. A Chinese green silk dressing gown was wrapped and belted tightly around his skinny frame and he didn't respond as she walked up to him. Frowning, she reached out and rested her hand on his, feeling warm flesh hardly move.

"I'm sorry…Astrid, I'm sorry…"

She froze…for _she knew that voice_. She shook her head. _Impossible…_

But she gently grasped his head between her hands and slowly lifted lifted his head back, revealing the familiar face, though hollow from lack of food and lack of hope, the emerald eyes dulled and desolate.

"I'm sorry…"

"Hiccup," Heather breathed, her eyes wide with shock. In her heart, she had resigned herself to losing both her brothers-blood and adopted-and to find him here, broken and abandoned, was beyond shocking. She glanced down at the dog-eared picture of Astrid and her newborn daughter and her eyes prickled with tears, realising what he had clung to as the last shred of his sanity. So she she did what any human wound do: she wrapped the broken man in a huge hug, cradling his head against her chest and holding him tight. And she rocked him, weeping, feeling him slowly-so slowly-nuzzle into her.

"H-Heather…" The broken voice was scratchy, hesitant and scared but she pulled back and looked down into the huge emerald eyes. "Is-is it you?" And though her cheeks were wet with tears, she nodded and forced herself to smile.

"Of course…brother," she told him and he blinked then nodded in slow motion.

"And…Astrid?" he whispered, his eyes shining with tears.

"She's well," she forced herself say. "She's waiting for you…"

"This isn't a dream?" he asked, his brow furrowing. Her heart clenched: he was clearly one of the worse cases, treated according to the prevailing wisdom of doctors that seemed excessively cruel to the woman who guessed what Hiccup needed was love and warmth and support to draw him back into the light from whatever hideous nightmare he had been drowning in. She shook her head.

"No, Hiccup," she said softly. "The War is over. You're home. You're safe." Slowly, he inclined his head and peered at the other broken men around him.

"Doesn't feel like home…or look particularly safe," he noted with a trace of sarcasm. She managed an astonished gasp, recognising her brother's typical response to any unfamiliar situation.

"You need to learn to walk again," she said softly. "And we have to get you stronger…because a puff of wind will blow you away." His mouth quirked very slightly.

"You know me…always a talking fishbone…" he murmured and curled up. "I can still see them," he murmured. "Please don't leave me, Heather. Don't leave me here…"

"Nurse Ingerman! Mr Grayson needs your attention!" The clipped voice of Senior Staff Nurse Rose had Heather looking up and then she looked back urgently at Hiccup, who was curling back in on himself.

"I'll be just over there, Hiccup," she hissed urgently. "Just there. You can see me, okay? Hang on-and then I can tell you all about Astrid…" He nodded.

"Astrid…I'm sorry…" he mumbled and closed his eyes.

"Nurse Ingerman!"

"Coming!" Heather said through her teeth and turned away, her blood boiling at the fact Hiccup was here-meaning someone knew he was alive-but was keeping it a secret from his devastated wife and fatherless daughter. Heather already guessed who it was-and she knew what she had to do about it.

oOo

Astrid noticed something was wrong when the Cenotaph was erected in the centre of the Plaza at the end of March and Hiccup's name wasn't on it. The names of PRIVATE T THORSTON, PRIVATE R THORSTON and PRIVATE D BAZERK were all listed but nowhere was Hiccup's name, either alphabetically or chronologically. And there were names there of Berkians both killed and missing in action. So she was furious and beyond hurt that her beloved was missed off the Memorial, devaluing his sacrifice once more. And all she could do was vent to Heather, raging and crying and railing at the utter unfairness of the world.

So it was with shock that she heard Heather's solution to her distress.

"Come with me to work," her friend had asked her. "You can wear my spare uniform. I really think it will help you." Astrid shook her head.

"I'm not a nurse and seeing injured and broken men isn't really going to help," she sighed but the other woman wasn't to be deterred.

"Astrid-I haven't asked for a favour ever," she said seriously. "But I have to insist you come with me tomorrow. Senior Staff and Sister will both be off so I am in charge of Ward Two-and I want you to come in. There is something you need to see."

"Heather…"

"Astrid-do you trust me?" the raven-haired woman had asked her and for a second, Astrid paused.

"Well, yes-but this is very crazy talk," she admitted.

"Then do this one thing for me," Heather said urgently. "And bring your wedding photograph."

"Now this really is…"

"Astrid. Please."

"Okay-but who's going to look after Valerie?"

"I'll ask Martha Ingerman. She'll be delighted since she claims she wants practice for when we have one of our own." Astrid smirked.

"Are you?" she asked and Heather shrugged.

"Not yet…but maybe soon," she said. "I'll pick you up at seven. Bring your bicycle."

"If this is some joke…" Astrid muttered.

"No joke. Seven. And bring the photo."

oOo

It was a drizzly morning and wind made cycling to the Sanatorium less than fun but the two woman finally pedalled up the long drive and racked their bikes. Then they walked in and Heather showed Astrid where to store her coat and then the way to go. Astrid looked very convincing, because she could always walk with confidence and she followed her friend straight onto the ward and without hesitation, to a bed at the far corner.

Astrid frowned, seeing a man curled up under a sheet, his messy hair flopped over his features, but Heather was already walking forward, grasping the man's skinny hand.

"Hello, Hiccup," she said and Astrid gaped as the man slowly lifted his head.

"H-Heather?" he asked roughly. "I-is it you?" The raven-haired woman nodded and smiled, grasping his hand.

"I've brought you a visitor," she said gently and moved aside as the man raised his head and the familiar emerald eyes came into view. He blinked and his eyes widened.

"A-Astrid?' he breathed. "It can't be…it must be another dream…Astrid's at home…far, far away…"

Frozen, unable to move, to speak, to even breathe, Astrid could only stare.

"No, it is Astrid," Heather argued gently, insistently pulling him up into a slumped sitting position. Astrid noted his left leg seemed shorter than the right under the sheets. "She's here, now. Astrid…please…"

"Hiccup?" The word was disbelieving, hesitant…but his head snapped up and his eyes widened.

"Astrid?" he breathed. "You-you're here?"

The paralysis left her and she lunged forward, throwing herself against him, arms hugging him against her, lips crashing into his before she buried her face in the crook of his neck, his scruffy stubble scratching her cheek. His arms wrapped tightly around her, feeling her solid and warm in his grasp once more. And then he closed his eyes.

"Milady," he breathed.

"My Hiccup," she breathed against his skin. "My poor Hiccup. What have they done to you?" He shivered and swallowed hard. She lifted her head and stared into his face, seeing the broken look in his eyes intensify.

"I-I can't say," he whispered. "It's cold and dark and so…frightening…and I-I will be sucked back there unless I apologise…it was my fault, I shouldn't have been there and…" She grasped his face between her hands and stared into his panicking eyes.

"Babe," she said sternly. "I'm here now. And I forgive you because you had to do it. You wouldn't be Hiccup if you didn't. And I am so, so proud of you because you saved Fishlegs and Gustav and the rest of the patrol…and we thought you were dead…"

"I was buried," he whispered. "There were bodies all around me and mud and I couldn't get out and all I could think of was you and finally…it all went black…"

"Stay with me, Hiccup," she said, her voice thick with tears at his desolate words. "You're here with me now. Stay in the light. Stay with me. We'll get through this…together…"

"I say! What are you doing with my patient?"

Both women snapped their heads round as Hiccup curled fearfully against Astrid-but the woman was fired up now, her supposedly-dead husband alive and in her arms and needing her as never before.

"Who are you?" she demanded in a cold voice.

"I don't like your tone of voice, nurse," an upper class accent sneered and she rose, her fists balled.

"I'm not a nurse," she growled. "I am his wife. And you have precisely ten seconds to explain why my husband is kept locked up here without my knowledge or you will need a surgeon to reattach the parts of you I will be cutting off. Is that clear?"

The young doctor backed up, his hazel eyes wide with shock and hands fiddling nervously with the buttons of his white coat. His job was to look after broken-minded men after the War, not deal with ferocious and very angry relatives…especially women. Women were definitely _not_ in the job description.

"Wife?' he gabbled and stared as she brandished the wedding photograph of what was clearly the man in the bed and the ferocious blonde woman. "But his father said…" Astrid growled in her throat.

"Right," she snapped. "The General and I will be having words. Many of them loud. Now are you going to tell me why my husband is locked up in here, thin as a rake, not walking and still distressed and frightened almost five months after the damned war is over?"

"Well, modern medicine…"

"Be damned," Astrid snapped. "Get him some proper breakfast, I'll shave him and then we can start getting him back on his feet. Do you have any crutches?"

"Crutches?"

"Yes, crutches-you know wooden things you put under your arm to help you walk when part of your leg is missing?" The doctor stared at her in shock and Astrid shook her head. "Heather-are there any doctors here with the power of speech? Or common sense? Or is that too much to ask?" The raven-haired woman was covering her smile with her hand and she nodded.

"Doctor Findlay, the Superintendent, will be here in a few minutes and you can discuss Hiccup's care with him," she offered. Astrid pulled the nursing cap off her head and sat on the bed by her husband, taking his hand in hers.

"Good," she said. "Because this changes everything. We will be starting today and I will be here, every single day, to ensure that my husband gets better. Every day." The doctor paled. "Because I love him and promised I would always be there for him. There will always be a Hiccup and Astrid-and if that means I spend the rest of my life fixing him, then that's what we'll do." She stared into Hiccup's emerald eyes and saw a faint spark of hope there that hadn't been there earlier. "I love you, Hiccup. Come back to me." He very tentatively leaned forward and kissed her.

"Thank you," he whispered.

oOo

It was late May and the poppies were starting to bloom in the garden when Stoick and Gobber arrived at Astrid's house for lunch. It was a sunny day just starting to get warm and the men were shocked when Heather greeted them at the door. The appetising smells of a joint of lamb roasting were wafting through the house and Valerie was playing with Fishlegs in the Sitting Room, where he was demonstrating why he would make an excellent Dad. The General looked shocked.

"I thought Astrid was here," he murmured and Heather gave a bright smile.

"She just nipped out to collect something," she explained. "Sherry?"

"Prefer a mead," Gobber grumbled, ambling into the Sitting Room. "And how's meh favourite grandniece?" Fishlegs grinned.

"I think she's as stubborn as Astrid and Hiccup combined," he offered gently.

"Thor help us," Stoick muttered under this breath as he accepted a glass of mead and then settled on the couch, his eyes fixed on the child. She was almost the image of Hiccup, except she was a larger version-Hiccup had always been a runt until he finally sprouted at sixteen. But every time he saw her, he felt a pang of guilt that he was depriving the child of her father…though Hiccup was not in any state to act as a father to the child. He sighed. He was in the best place for him.

The growl of an engine sounded outside and a car pulled up. Heather scurried through, a smile on her face and she scooped Valerie into her arms, smiling at her husband as he levered his bulky frame to his feet, following her to the front door. "That will be Snotlout," Heather smiled. "He's very proud of his new car." Interested despite himself, Stoick rose and followed her out of the door-and then stopped, getting a huge shove from Gobber to get him out of the way so the two-limbed man could see what the fuss was about.

Snotlout was clambering out of his elegant burgundy painted Bentley, the headlamps gleaming in the summer sun, the leather upholstery spotless. Astrid was sitting smugly in the back, effortlessly climbing out from behind Snotlout's seat…but every eye was drawn by the tall, skinny shape in a slightly too-large suit with pressed shirt and green bow tie, a familiar trilby perched on top of messy auburn hair. Stoick's jaw dropped as Hiccup levered himself upright and out of the passenger seat and grabbed his stick, then limped very obviously round to grasp his wife's hand. There was a small smile on his pale face as he faced his family. Snotlout's smug smile was triumphant as he stood on his cousin's other side, folding his arms and staring at his Uncle.

"I have someone here who you need to meet," Heather said, walking forward and handing Valerie to her mother. Astrid smiled and then turned to her husband, lifting the eighteen month old up to look into her father's eyes.

"Dada!" she said immediately and reached out her hand to rest of his cheek. He started and his eyes teared up, breaths accelerating…but Astrid was with him and smiling and he raised a shaking hand to tenderly caress the soft cheek of the little girl.

"Hey, Valerie Rachel," he murmured. "It's good to finally meet you." He looked up. "How-how does she know me?" Astrid gave her most smug smile.

"Every day, my love, we say good morning to Dada-the photo of you in your uniform on the mantlepiece," she explained. "There was no way my daughter was not going to recognise her father when he came home. And I knew in my heart, you _would_ come home-or I would wait for you until we met in Valhalla. You are the only one for me, the one true love of my life and these years without you have been agony." He leaned forward and pressed a tiny kiss on Val's forehead.

"For me too," he said in a soft voice as Astrid stared at her father in law.

"Oh, I found him," she told him unnecessarily. "And I enforced my rights as his wife and legal next of kin to get him properly treated, not rotting in that sanatorium you sent him to." She glared at the shocked Stoick. "I have done more with him in three months than you and your doctors did in the rest of the year since he was wounded." The General blushed.

"I-I only did what I thought was the best for him and you, lass," he stammered, wilting a little under her laser glare. She took an angry breath.

"I cannot thank you enough for finding him and bringing him home…but you should have told me the moment you knew he was alive!" she snapped at him. "I love Hiccup and I was half a person without him. And no matter how wounded and broken he was, I should have helped heal him. Instead, you let me grieve and think him lost. And I will forgive you…but maybe not today or even tomorrow." She took a deep breath. "But you are part of this family and we are all here for one another-even if you are massively stupid."

"Yeh deserved that," Gobber commented and Stoick rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, Gobber," Stoick replied ironically and then turned to the tall lean shape, watching him warily, still pressed close to his wife and child. "Son? Can you forgive me?"

Hiccup chewed his lip and his head dipped, but he took a deep breath and looked up again.

"I will," he said quietly. "Because you found me and brought me back here. But Astrid healed me. Just…ask, next time?" Astrid gasped and then pressed a kiss onto his cheek.

"Babe," she said sternly, "there isn't going to be a next time. Because I am never letting you go again…" He managed a slight smile.

"Scary wife," he murmured.

"And your scary wife says get in the house, babe, because lunch will be getting cold," she said and he wrapped his arm around her, leaning on her hard as they walked past the red poppies in the flowerbed and into his home, safe once more.

oOo

In time, Hiccup healed, though he was always prone to the occasional flashback and remained nervous around loud noises for the remainder of his life. He resumed working at Berk Munitions and Engineering and worked well with the new manager, his cousin Snotlout. He and Astrid went on to have two sons, Finn Dagur and Stoick Timothy, named in honour of his fallen friends. Heather and Fishlegs had twins, Darren and Angela, who among the naughtiest children in Berk while Snotlout married a young woman from out of town and had single daughter, Anna. Fishlegs remained at Berk Grammar and eventually became Headmaster, generally acknowledged as the best they had in the school's history. Heather gave up work when she had her children, though she campaigned for humane and personalised treatment for men still suffering from Shell Shock.

Every November the Eleventh, as well as celebrating their firstborn's birthday, the Haddocks were in the front row of the Armistice Day celebrations in Berk. No one was more happy than Hiccup when the poppy was adopted as the symbol of Remembrance, recalling the pressed flower he had sent to his wife from France as his promise to return to her arms. In return, her love had dragged him back from hopelessness and restored him to life and as a reminder of that promise, they always kept poppies growing in their garden for the remainder of their days.

 **The End.**

 **A/N: Dedicated to all those who have fought and** **suffered for the cause of freedom and peace.**

 **"** **Lest we forget…"**


	7. Epilogue

**11/11/2018**

 **A/N: It is the Centenary of the Armistice, the end of the First World War. And while the main story is completed, it seemed fitting to commemorate the event with one last chapter…**

 **Epilogue:**

 **10th September 1939**

Hiccup leaned forward and twiddled the dial on the radiograph on the oak sideboard, making the precise, subdued tones of Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain a little louder. Astrid rested her hand on his shoulder as the family gathered around. She could feel him trembling, panicking as he hadn't for many years now, suppressing and conquering his fears and flashbacks. But he had come home from work to be with his family at this time The boys had been sent home as well to be with their family, for Headmaster Ingerman had been warned that the announcement was coming. Valerie rushed in, late as usually and sat perched on the edge of the couch, as unladylike as her mother had been in her younger days.

 _"_ _This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock, that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, that a state of war would exist between us._

 _I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany."_

He sat back in his chair, his eyes closed and tears leaking down his cheeks even as the voice continued, explaining the tale to the waiting Nation and declaring war for the second time in Hiccup's life.

"I had hoped and prayed…that it would be true," he whispered. "All that death, all that pain, all that sacrifice…the War to End All Wars. But it's happening again…" Astrid's hand tightened impossibly on his shoulder, no less upset but better at putting on a brave face. As beautiful as she had been when he married her, her gold hair was sprinkled with a few greys amid the sun bright tresses, in the braided bun that she usually wore. Dressed in a blue blouse and dark brown below the knee skirt, she was always neat and controlled, the perfect wife and mother. And inside, her heart was breaking as her gaze swept over her children, over Valerie, with her auburn hair swept off her face in a flattering bob, her emerald eyes locked on her father. Eighteen-year old Finn was standing beside her, his tall, lithe frame smart in his dark school uniform, his short blond hair and blue eyes the mirror of his mother, though his face echoed his father more while his younger brother Stoick was a little shorter and stockier, his strawberry blonde hair and blue-green eyes a perfect mixture of his parents.

"It seems small numbers of stupid, arrogant people believe that they can rerun the war over and change the outcome," Astrid said in a low voice. "But overall, nineteen million died in the conflict. A flower of the Nation's youth, torn apart by shells and guns."

"Our friends," Hiccup murmured. "I can't do it again, Milady. I-I just can't…" She turned to him and wrapped her arms around him, fingers digging in auburn hair lightly streaked with grey. He hadn't put on an ounce since he had recovered on his return home, though he was fit and walked the dogs every day. His bespoke prosthetic left leg was now a unique piece of engineering, far more advanced than any other in the country and completely suited to his needs. He moved his leg slightly to ease a cramp.

"You're too old, Dad," Finn told him brashly. "It's our turn now!" The engineer's head snapped up.

"No," he said, his tone suddenly firm. "No. I forbid it!"

There was a sudden silence with the voice of Chamberlain still continuing.

"It's our duty!" Finn argued.

"There is a standing army and the professionals will be deployed," Astrid said, her voice not wavering.

"War today is very different," Hiccup added, staring at his sons as if trying to fix their images in his mind. "The weapons are more accurate, the guns are more accurate and there are tanks and aircraft. It won't be two armies in trenches, running into machine guns…"

"But we can volunteer…" Stoick said eagerly as his father scrambled to his feet.

"I FORBID IT!" he shouted. "I will not have my sons spent in the arrogance of political dogma, torn apart for a few yards of muddy earth! You will not enlist. You will continue your schooling and ensure that this country survives. We have already given more than our dues for this country: I will not permit it to have my sons as well!"

Astrid watched as he walked from the room, whistling for Night, his black Labrador and grabbing his coat. They all stared after him as the door slammed and Astrid slumped into the vacated chair.

"Can't he understand?" Finn asked. "I mean, I know he was in the War but he never talks of it. I guess he was just an engineer or something very, very boring. But we're young, we're brave."

"We're from Berk!" Stoick added, his face filled with enthusiasm. "Look, we've heard Grampy talk so many times about his adventures-him and old Gobber…"

"I think…Dad is scared," Valerie said slowly, raising her eyes. "I think Eric wants to join up. He's been speaking about it ever since the news starting coming in of Hitler's advances…" Immediately, Astrid rose and sat by her, her hand twining with her daughter's. Valerie's beau, Eric Eretson, was a handsome young man from the neighbouring town of Hunterton, who had met her at the School dance and had been courting her for three years.

"Oh, I am so sorry," Astrid sighed, leaning against her daughter and wrapping her arm around the young woman. Then she looked up. "Before you imagine war is glorious, before you think about disobeying a man who knows, I have a task for you. You are to speak to someone who lived through the War and find out about the decorated heroes of Berk. Who was the most decorated solider to serve from our town?"

"Well, that's easy-the General, Grampy…" Finn said brashly but their mother shook her head.

"Try again," she advised him. "The army will be sent now and nothing is in place. Think before you make any stupid statements. You know people who lived through the War-people who served. Talk to them before you imagine war is glorious."

oOo

Life was busy and school suddenly filled with additional lessons as various teachers engaged their students with the war effort. History became extremely jingoistic and English focussed on stories of the war and of conflict. Finn, working for his Higher Certificate and Stoick in his School Certificate year were working hard under the tutelage of their masters, though Headmaster Ingerman made sure they were given ample time for games and sports. Valerie found herself busier than ever in the Solicitors' Office where she worked, though she saw Eret most evenings. Astrid began to plan another vegetable plot in the garden, as they had the previous conflict, though their four bedroom house had considerably more land than the old cottage.

But she sighed as she saw Hiccup crouching down, staring at the patch where the poppies were planted, his face pale. Immediately, she walked to his side and took his hand, her fingers sliding between his and waiting for him to speak.

"Snotlout and Phyllis want to come round for Dinner," Hiccup said quietly. "I've said maybe Saturday?" Astrid nodded.

"I'll get a capon," she said thoughtfully. "And the trees have plenty of apples. I'll send the boys round blackberrying so we can have blackberry and apple pie." He smiled.

"I love your pies," he sighed and looked over to her. "Snot wants war contracts-which you can understand really. We sell munitions and war needs bullets and bombs."

"I'll ask Fish and Heather over as well," Astrid suggested. "I think we all need to be together at this time." He leaned over and kissed her.

"My love, it took you twenty years to put me back together and now…we have war once more. Val is only twenty-one, after all…"

"I think her young man is wanting to speak to you," Astrid said wisely.

"Not if he enlists," Hiccup said stubbornly. "I won't allow my daughter to go through the same anguish that you suffered…" Astrid pulled him round to face her, blue eyes meeting green and sparkling with annoyance.

"Hiccup Haddock-I suffered because you enlisted without telling me when I was pregnant with our first child!" she reminded him tartly. "You didn't talk. You let those braying ninnies persuade you that you had to walk into machine guns and suffer Helheim in the trenches to be a man. And maybe I didn't tell you because I was scared about losing the baby-but I suffered so much because we had already lost three friends and one invalided out and you-the kindest, gentlest man I know-thrust into the midst of battle!" He smiled.

"You know, I suspect I am lucky I'm not being locked up in the coal shed for the duration," he sassed and she smiled back at him.

"I need your name on the ration form," she told him simply and he groaned.

"I know my worth, Milady," he chuckled as he leaned against her.

"Hiccup-Val will love who she chooses-as did I," she reminded him. "She is old enough to vote and to marry. She works and she has been courted by Eric for three years."

"I'm still courting you," he pointed out. She smiled.

"Hush, you," she told him. "She's my daughter. She's your daughter. She's stubborn-all our children are. But they are intelligent and will listen-if you speak. Explain why you won't given them your blessing."

"I-I-I can't," Hiccup said quietly, his eyes unfocussing as he stared at the empty patch of brown earth. His mind saw mud, explosions, the ooze rising around him as he lay, badly wounded and buried by the wrecked remains of bodies, mere yards from his own trenches. "I can't, Milady. It means going back there. It means facing it again…"

Immediately, Astrid wrapped her arms around him, feeling his head burrow into her neck, his lanky arms flung around her and body shaking with emotion. Guilt and sorrow filled her and she closed her eyes, holding him tight until he stopped shaking.

"I'm sorry, babe," she murmured. "I am so sorry. I-I guess I can never truly appreciate how horrific it was there-even though I saw you when I got you back. Never forget, my love-I am here. I am always with you. You have nothing to fear."

But there was an edge to her voice and even through his own panic and waking nightmares, he knew she was afraid…because war had come again and now she had her children to lose.

oOo

"Please tell me that you've had better luck than we have!" Finn sighed as he slumped back in the worn chair in the front room of his home. His friends and family- sixteen year old Anna Jorgensen, Darren and Angela Ingerman-twins who were both seventeen and his younger brother Stoick. There was a collective shrug from the teens.

"Mom and Dad won't speak about it but I know they both are upset," Angela said. She and her brother both had their mother's raven hair, green eyes and sharp features but Darren was a husky Rugby forward as their father while Angie was lithe and athletic like her Mom.

"Well, Dad served throughout much of the war and Mom's brother was killed in action," Darren added. He was thoughtful and intelligent-when he wasn't helping his sister prank the Helheim out of the school. As children of the Headmaster of Berk High, they lived in the provided accommodation and that meant they had ample time to set up all sorts of elaborate pranks and tricks for the hapless masters.

"She was crying when the announcement of war came on the radio," Angela revealed. "She kept looking at Darren."

"Our Dad freaked, forbade us to join up and went for a walk," Stoick pitched in, lazing on the couch by Anna, his second cousin. They were good friends and Anna, petite with bright blue eyes and long deep brown hair, was as quiet and thoughtful as her father had not been.

"Dad won't speak," she revealed. "He just went into his office and stared at that picture he has of him and all his friends, the day before they all went off to war."

"They all have one," Darren said quietly. "Dad and Mom were looking at theirs." Finn sighed.

"And our parents," he admitted. "They lost friends, killed in the War." He looked around. "So no one has managed to get anyone to talk?" Tentatively, Anna raised her hand.

"I spoke to Mr Larson at the hardware store," she offered. "He served with Dad and your fathers. He joined up when he was only fifteen by lying about his age-and he admitted he was so glad that the others looked out for him. He said…your Dad, Finn, saved them all on a patrol. They thought he had been killed especially when he tried to save another patrol on his way back. He was badly hurt and ended up coming home. He said…he never wanted to remember the explosions and the friends he lost." Hiccup's sons blinked and shared a look.

"So what do we do now?" Stoick asked.

"We need to do what Mom said-and find out who was the most decorated soldier from Berk," Finn said sternly. "And then you can go and talk to Grampy. He loves you visiting because you've got his name!" The younger boy rolled his eyes but Anna patted his hand.

"I'll come," she volunteered. "He's my great Uncle and he fought as well."

oOo

"Come in Val, Eric," Hiccup said, sitting on the couch with Astrid at his side in the best Sitting Room. A fire was dancing in the grate and Night was curled at his feet, his ears pricked and eyes opening briefly as the young woman and her beau perched nervously on the couch opposite the lean, auburn-haired engineer. Eric glanced into Val's eyes and smiled.

He was a tall, buff man with raven hair and cool hazel eyes, his face even and handsome. He was wearing uniform-not khaki but a mid blue and Hiccup didn't need to see the wings to know the young man had signed up for the Royal Air Force.

"Thank you, sir," he said and squeezed Val's hand again. "I-we-have come here today because I need to ask you something." Astrid's hand tightened on Hiccup's and the man felt a strange protective surge burst in his chest. He could recall the awkwardness of his own talk with Astrid's father, almost thirty years earlier so he straightened up slightly and looked into the young couple's eyes.

"I'm not an ogre-or a dragon," he reminded them. "You can ask me anything." He paused. "Can't guarantee what my answer will be though…" But his lips quirked up in a small smile and he forced himself to relax. Eric cleared his throat.

"Um…as you know, I have been courting your beautiful, smart, spirited daughter since we were at school and I know that she is the person I want to be with for the rest of my life," he began, his voice even and calm. Val's emerald eyes were shining and he felt Astrid trembling at his side. "I have signed up with the RAF because I feel I have to defend my country, the home that I love. I am going to be a pilot and hope that my skills and those of my brothers will keep the enemy from our shores. But I want Valerie to be my wife, to give me that reason to come back, to keep fighting when all hope seems lost."

Hiccup blinked, his mind sliding inexorably back to that day in May 1918…

 _…_ _buried under bodies, pinned and almost unable to move…the mud was cloying, sucking him down, with all he could to to keep his head above the fluid…. his wrecked left leg bleeding and as he struggled to drag himself up a little, he knew there was no hope he would be saved…the wet cold was already seeping into his body and he was beginning to shiver…so he curled up, resting his free hand over his chest and the precious photograph of his wife and newborn daughter, the image that he had clung to through every battle, every horror and beyond that day until he was rescued from his hell by Astrid in the Spring of 1919…_

He looked up with a sad smile, aware that the others were all staring, for he had been hyperventilating, his expression the broken one that Astrid had found him wearing as he struggled in his breakdown.

"In such times, when life is so uncertain and our leaders seem hell-bent on sending their subjects to kill and die far from home, we have to remember what matters," he forced himself to say. "Family. Friendship. Love. Hope. I never wanted Val to suffer as Astrid suffered when I was at War…but Astrid was right…she is an adult and she loves you. So I give you permission to take her hand in marriage. But I expect you to fight to your last breath to be with her. Do not be afraid. And give of your best, in everything that you do. This is not the same war and maybe, the Gods will be merciful and bring you home." Eric rose and his face was filled with a shocked smile. He shook Hiccup's hand and Astrid's and then swung Val around, her laughing face streaked with tears.

"Will you?" he breathed and she nodded, hugging him, beyond words. Astrid leaned her head on Hiccup's shoulder and tilted her head towards him.

"I'm proud of you," she murmured. "I know it was so hard for you…" He gave a wan smile.

"In the end, it was easy," he told her gently. "Because I love Valerie-and it is very obvious that she loves him-and he her. And I meant what I said. In these times, we have to hold onto those things worth fighting for and cherish the joy in our lives." Val surged forward and hugged her parents, her face lit with joy.

"Thank you Mom, Dad…" she said tearfully as they rose and hugged her. "I-I know how hard it must be for you…" Astrid smiled.

"One of the hardest truths about having children is they are loaned to you only," she said. "And love means letting them go to live their own lives, hoping that the teaching and values you gave them are enough to equip them to survive and prosper away from you." She looked into the girl's eyes. "You are my firstborn, Valerie Rachel-named after Hiccup's mother and the bravest woman I know, a woman who sneaked away with the Expeditionary Force because she could never bear to be separated from her brother. Rachel Thorston-not Rafe as the papers record-died in the Battle of the Somme. She walked out into No Man's Land after her brother Timothy was blown to bits in a sortie Over The Top. They were gamekeepers and she fought so well no one suspected until she died. I know you are brave and smart, my love. And we are always here-so if he is stationed away, come home, Do not be alone. I had Heather Ingerman with me because I had no family. You always have me."

Hiccup shook Eric's hand.

"And you look after my daughter," he said sternly and then grinned. "Thor, I never thought I would say that either." Astrid walked over to the sideboard and pulled out a bottle.

"I think a little sherry is in order," she announced and swiftly poured four glasses. Serving the youngsters first, she handed a small glass to Hiccup and smiled. He raised his glass.

"To Valerie and Eric," he said. "To hope and love."

"To hope and love."

oOo

Stoick and Anna joined Finn the Berk Town Archives, helping him scan through the papers covering the war years and afterwards, when the final medals were awarded. And as they read the lists, their eyes widened in shock.

"Dad," Finn murmured "It's Dad."

"Well, he got the British War medal and the Victory Medal-as well as the Silver War badge for being invalided out," Stoick read. "But look at the rest…sixteen mentions in dispatches, Military Medal twice, Distinguished Conduct Medal twice and…Thor. The Victoria Cross."

"What?" Anna gasped. "Uncle Hiccup has a VC?"

"It was awarded in recognition of his actions in saving the patrol, fighting off a German patrol single handed and in saving three men of the patrol that wandered into No Man's Land despite already being seriously injured," Finn read. "Oh my Thor. Grampy Stoick accepted on Dad's behalf because Mom refused to go."

The three teens shared a look.

"We need to talk to Mom," Finn decided. "Because we really need to talk to Dad."

oOo

The engagement party for Valerie and Eric was a small affair, though the Ingermans and Jorgensens attended with their children. Eric's parents had moved to the Highlands before the War and were not keen to travel because of the shortages of petrol and the threat of air raids. So Astrid and Heather split the cooking and made sure there was a roast, cherry pie and madeira cake to celebrate. General Stoick Haddock-in his mid Seventies but still hale and brash, for all he was a little deaf-was the guest of Honour, bringing his aged mead to toast the young couple. Everyone was happy, joyous and optimistic. Finn was very admiring of Eric's RAF uniform and the fact that the man was going to train as a fighter pilot and Hiccup felt his chest tighten in anxiety. He knew his sober brand of sensible advice and concern for his son couldn't compete with the thrills and prospect of adventure in the life of an RAF fighter pilot and he was starting to fear that his older son would sign up once he finished his Higher Certificate, eschewing the University that Hiccup desperately wanted him to attend.

Once the meal was finished and the desserts had been polished off, the party were all crammed into the Sitting Room, the younger generation perched on the floor or on cushions while the elders took the seats. Stoick Senior supped his mead and gave a big grin. He was still large though he walked with a stick and his flaming beard was more grey than red now but he still relished being with his family.

"Dad," Finn started, looking around. Darren and Angela nodded and Anna took her father's hand. Hiccup looked at him and felt his stomach lurch. "We have been looking into what we could find out about the Great War-because now we are at war again, we need to know what happened."

"We won," Snotlout said swiftly, sipping his mead. His wife Phyllis-a solid woman with kind grey eyes and a comfortable face-squeezed his arms and he nodded. "All you need to know."

But Hiccup knew it wasn't true. When he was younger, he wouldn't take anyone's word without more information. It was 1939, not 1839! And he looked around his friends. Heather slipped her arm through Fishlegs' and leaned close to him, her eyes closing in memory. Astrid rose and opened the sideboard, pulling out a buff cardboard box and placing it on the floor between her and Hiccup. He shook his head but she lifted the lid off anyway. She pulled out a framed photograph of the friends as they looked, that autumn day in 1914.

"Here we are at the start of the war, when our friends signed up to go to the Front," she said, turning it round to show to the youngsters. "You recognise Uncle Snot, Uncle Fishlegs, Aunt Heather, Dad and I." And then she paused. "These two are Timothy 'Tuffnut' and Rachel 'Ruffnut' Thorston, our friends who signed up. And yes Rachel was a woman who pretended to be a man to go with her brother. They were both killed in the Somme. And this is Dagur Bazerk, Heather's older brother. He died a hero, fighting off an attack and saving Snot and Fishlegs." And then she showed the second picture, the image she had treasured for so long. "And this is your Dad, when he signed up in 1917."

"Why so late?" Stoick junior asked. Hiccup gave a low groan but Astrid grasped his tightly clenched hand warmly.

"He was in a reserved occupation-a munitions engineer-and he made sure Berk Munitions and Engineering produced the best shells and weapons to support our troops," she said. "He should never have gone-but he was subjected to taunts and accusations of cowardice because he wasn't fighting. Snot had been injured and the twins and Dagur were gone so Fishlegs was all on his own. Your Dad lied so he could sign up to be with him."

"We know your service was extremely distinguished," Finn said. "We checked. You got the Victoria Cross."

Everyone stared at him and only Stoick and Astrid didn't look shocked. Hiccup nodded.

"Yes," he murmured. His children rose and stood before him.

"You know-we would never have known," Valerie said. "Because you never talk about it. None of you do. And you never even wear your ribbons even at the Commemorations Day Services."

"Dad-you are a hero, someone who has done the most amazing things-and you never talk about them…" Finn added.

"None of you do," Darren added, looking at his father. Fishlegs gave a small shrug.

"It was horrific and tragic and now…proven to be futile," he said. "Why would I want to revisit that? When I came home to Berk, I returned to life. I never want to go there again."

"Why would any of us?" Snotlout added, his voice suddenly soft. "You have no clue about the shelling, day after day. The mud. The gas. The disease. The deaths. More and more people dying. And having to attack, again and again, running into the guns. And never thinking it would end…"

"Then make us understand," Stoick begged his father. His green eyes widened and his father felt fear fluttering in his chest. The images swirled around him and he shivered-but Astrid's hand found his and as he twined his fingers with hers, he was reminded that she was always with him. That he was safe and loved and never going back. It was in the past.

"We who served don't speak of the horrors because we live with the legacy every single day," he said clearly, his eyes sweeping over the room. "We never wanted you to share in the things we endured. We thought our sacrifice was going to ensure that. But maybe-just this one time-if I speak, you may understand why I-why _we_ -are so set against you boys serving in this war." Fishlegs, Snotlout, Stoick Senior, Heather and Astrid all nodded and the younger generation settled down as Hiccup looked at them-his family and friends. _He was safe and home_ , he reminded himself. _And nothing would ever change that._

Gathering his courage and feeling his wife lean against him, he sipped his mead and then nodded. In the end, he needed to speak to try to save his sons, as he had fought to be back with his wife and daughter. And he was no coward, no matter what people had wrongly intimated back during those feverish years. Astrid looked up and opened her other hand, quietly revealing the pressed poppy he had sent her, faded but still a symbol of hope that he would be with her once more. Brushing a kiss against her cheek, he smiled and felt her support once more.

So surrounded by love and hope, with his family and friends listening and sometimes helping, even as around them, the world descended into war once more, Hiccup Haddock gathered his courage, faced down his demons and began to speak, telling his tale of the War…

 **A/N: Many First World War veterans never felt able to speak about the horrors they endured and went to their graves, carrying their experiences in their hearts.**

 **"** **Lest we forget."**


End file.
